The Lost Days of the Ex Eco Terrorist
by Jynx Tsilevon
Summary: It's easy to forget what happened to the old AVALANCHE after Cloud made the group Heroes. But someone has to be interested in what happened to Elfé Dragoon.  Collection of drabbles centering around the life of Elfé, leader of AVALANCHE
1. Chapter 1

A short Authors Note to get us started.

If you've stumbled here, you're one of two types of people. 1) you know who Elfé is and you, like me, are curious to see someone write for her, or 2) you have no idea who Elfé is and want to see what this is all about.

Well, for people group 2, here's a quick rundown.

Before Barret Wallace took up the mantel of AVALANCHE, it was actually run by a mysterious woman named Elfé. (Remember the line that Barret says in Cosmo Canyon? How he was going to take Biggs, Jessie, and Wedge there to see where AVALANCHE was born? Elfé's AVALANCHE).

Elfé, aided by her field leader Shears and her scientist Fuhito, set out to bring down Shinra in any way possible.

There is a catch. A few catches. Like the fact that Fuhito is a complete and total Hojo fanboy. Or that Elfé has a WEAPON like Chaos fused into her skin. Or that Elfé is the daughter of the Director of Turk, Veld Dragoon.

Wait wait _wait_, you're saying. I know, it seems random. But go research Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII. You'll see that I'm not making any of this up. (Before Crisis is a cell phone game that was only released in Japan….yeah I know).

In truth, knowing the events of B.C. makes Final Fantasy VII much more morose.

In short, know the following facts (spoilers but they're important to understanding the following fictions):

Shears and Fuhito are dead.  
>Elfé's real name is Felicia. <strong>The Surname "Dragoon" was adopted by the fandom and is the general consesus as a last name for both her and Veld. It is <em>not<em> cannon, just widely accepted. **  
>Elfé was "shot" and "killed" by Tseng of the Turks, along with her father, Veld.<br>Rufus Shinra knows, aided, and possibly has a crush on, Elfé.  
>Elfé is real, and she was the leader of AVALANCHE.<br>The WEAPON in Elfé was put there by Hojo after she was one of the few survivors of the raid on Kalm. (Kalm gets destroyed a lot, actually.) It's known as Zirconiade, or the one who will burn everything. Although released at the end of the game, it now lies dormant in Elfé, waiting for the end of the world. (Headcanon says she's immortal, since Vincent undergoes the same issue with Chaos. THAT IS NOT A FACT though.)

There's so much more to it than that, but I think that's enough to get you started.

Always, you can contact me for more information, or to point you in the right direction.

Thanks for taking a step in a new direction,  
>Jynx<p> 


	2. No Light

**A/n** "If you're so dead, why are your eyes so bright?" was the prompt. I channeled Felicia for this prompt, to explain how the girl coped with the experiments run on her. Once again, I pull headcanon rights to make Vincent exist within her headspace.

* * *

><p>When the experiments started she was alone in her mind. A scared little girl in a world of pain did the only thing a little girl knew how to do.<p>

She created somewhere safe.

It started out as a field of flowers with a big, beautiful climbing tree in it. She would climb up very high and pretend to hide from the people that hurt her.

Later, Zira was there, watching her climb. She did not like Zira. Zira would make the flowers all catch on fire and laugh as she cried.

She sent Zira away, to the edge of her flowers, and let the evil thing burn all she wanted, far beyond her consciousness. She still heard the laughing.

Then, one day, there was a man sitting under her tree. He was sleeping, his long legs spread out before him. His clothes were a deep, dark blue. He seemed very clean.

She approached him very cautiously, because Papa said never to talk to strangers, 'specially not clean men in blue suits.

When she got close he opened his eyes and they seemed to glow at her. They were a very odd color. Like the pretty red jewels Momma had. She stopped walking and just stared at him. He stared back.

"This is my place," she stated, stopping her foot. "You're not allowed to be here."

He looked around, slightly confused, before smiling at her.

"It's a nice place," he said gently, as he stood up. He was very tall. She had to look all the way up to meet his eyes now. "I like it here." He bent down, placing one knee on the ground, and offered her a flower different than the ones which grew around her. "May I stay?"

She looked at him for a moment and tentatively took the flower.

The next time she climbs the tree, he's up there with her. He doesn't climb as high, just far enough to watch her climb to the top. She thinks he's like Papa, too old to climb trees, but old enough to make sure little girls don't get hurt while climbing. She appreciates it.

He tells her later that his name is Vincent and he doesn't know how he got to her place but he likes it better than where he used to be.

"What was the other place like?" she asks. She's weaving a flower-chain for him to wear.

"It was cold. And dark."

"Where there any flowers?" She puts the flower crown on his head.

"No. There was nothing at all."

That doesn't make much sense to her.  
>_<p>

No matter what happens to her, he's always there. She's slowly growing taller, but he's always exactly the same.

She kind of likes it.

She sleeps curled up in his arms, her head resting on his chest. Like she did with Papa.

He doesn't have a heartbeat. Neither does she.

One day, the whole field is burning. And Zira isn't the cause.

She runs to the tree and finds that only _half_ the field is burning, actually. It's Vincent's half. And it's not only burning. There's something raining from the sky and it's all dark. She calls for him and sees a figure standing out there so she runs to it.

It's not Vincent. It's a creature like Zira.

She screams and it turns to look at her. Suddenly Vincent is there, pulling her away from it and yelling.

Back on the side where the fire isn't, he apologizes.

"What is it?" she asks. Vincent doesn't say anything because he's looking over at the other edge of the field. Where Zira always is.

"You too…" he says, not to her, but to the air. He doesn't sound happy.  
>_<p>

Their meetings all start out the same now. She walks barefoot across the field where he's sleeping under the tree. She'll sit beside him and rest her head on his shoulder. They won't speak for awhile.

"Am I dead, Vincent?" she asks one day.

"I don't know."

"Papa always said that the place we go when we die isn't a bad place."

"Then maybe you're not dead."

"Are you dead, Vincent?"

"I don't know."

"Papa said ghosts aren't real."

"Who _is_ your Papa?"

For the life of her, she doesn't know. She starts to cry and Vincent holds her close and apologizes.  
>_<p>

One day he stands up and she's closer in height. She's not a little girl anymore. He looks so sad.

"How old are you today?" he asks. She looks at him and shrugs. She doesn't talk much anymore. Neither does he, actually.

Her once so bright eyes are very dim.

He takes her hand and they walk in silence around the field. In the end he carries her back to the tree and sets her down against it.

She looks up at him and frowns.

"Everything hurts," she announces to him. "And I don't know where I am."

She closes her eyes and the flowers all turn black.  
>_<p>

Elfe wakes up screaming for the first time in a long time and someone is holding her hand. She turns and looks to the side and the brightest pair of eyes stare out from the darkness. They are such an odd color. Like the sunset after a battle.

The hand squeezes hers gently.

She cries out and reaches for him. He gathers her into his arms _just like before_ and she falls asleep with her head on his chest.

He has no heartbeat

Neither does she.


	3. One Year

**A/n** Elfé was the cause of the disaster at Corel. The one that both ended and restarted Barret Wallace's life. If you play BC, you'll get to the part in the reactor where Elfé loses control of Zirconiade and blows a lot of things up. Well, a lot more things than she expected to. Anyway.

Elfé probably doesn't regret much in her life. Really, she's militant, headstrong, stubborn (they call this a Dragoon Trait), no-nonsense sort of person. She doesn't talk much. She acts on he own devices. Doesn't take orders from anyone.

I know for fact, over the half-year I've spent with Elfé in my headspace, that she never forgave herself for letting Corel become "another Kalm."

Also, the names I attach to Fuhito and Shears are: Fuhito Aramaki and Shears al Corro.

* * *

><p>Most of the things she does are spur of the moment. She'll admit that. But this is something she's been planning for a long time. Or longer than she normally plans. Back since Fort Condor, where she was when she wasn't supposed to be but was anyway.<p>

Back when she found herself fighting with AVALANCHE, but not _her_AVALANCHE. Respectable people none the less. She was a bit envious of all of them, in a way.

Or maybe it was since that day in Kalm, where she sat in the back corner of the local bar and listened to a pale man in blue and a dark man in combat fatigues discuss the end of the world and _are you going back because I am_.

When she'd stood up and tapped the dark man and asked if he wouldn't mind if_she_ went back instead because _don't you have a daughter_?

Maybe it was then, not Fort Condor, when she realized this was what she had to do.

So she'd gotten a haircut from someone who didn't ask many questions and bought some workman's clothes and gone home and bound herself so she looked a bit like a very thin 19 year old boy and not a 20something year old girl and nodded before packing a bag of basically nothing and a few books.

She emptied what little she had saved up to her name and kept it in her boot and boarded a train the next day.  
>_<p>

On the way to where she needed to go, she caught up on the state of things. She sat with a newspaper in her lap and read in silence while the people on the train got on and off.

_WRO established…AVALANCHE members hailed as Heroes…Mako levels in Midgar deemed unsafe…Shinra blamed for havoc_

She folded the newspaper and declined anything to drink, _will that be all, Sir?_Yes thank you, ma'am.

She takes grim pleasure in being called Sir.  
>_<p>

She's got a backstory in her head, cemented down for reference if anyone asks. No one will, because so many people need work nowadays.

Although it was a risk, she decides that it was smart to shrink her katana into a sort-of necklace to wear beneath her shirt. She wouldn't feel safe without it; although she's very sure its presence may very well give her away, if it was ever seen.

Then again, she could be putting too much faith the impact of her infamy. By now, really, she was probably a nightmare of the past, or she'd been forgotten entirely. _You mean there was a time when AVALANCHE actually _was_ a terrorist group?_

She gets off the train with her one bag and stands in the midst of reconstruction with about twenty other men. All of them are twice her size and appear to be at least twenty years older.

She eyes the situation regretfully and wonders if she's going to get caught this soon.

But no, it's a strangely rustic check in where they ask for her name ("Corro Aramaki") and place of birth ("Cosmo Canyon") and age ("Just turned 20, Sir") and ask for some of her basic skills and this all goes into one of the foreman's ledger books and she's waved through with the line of workers being admitted that day. Soldiers in almost uniforms with bands that read _W.R.O. _stand with the foremen, taking in the data and sending it back to the new city of Edge, for processing.

Her name goes into the database and Elfé Dragoon becomes Corro Aramaki. Worker in the rebuilding of North Corel.

Her name, made up of two names, when put together like that, mean nothing, unless you actually are looking for the _old_ AVALANCHE.

Her plan is to stay as long as possible, but she's aiming for a year. Because if these people don't figure out who she is, Veld will most certainly find her after that amount of time. She knows he's already looking anyway.

Two weeks in the foremen start working for a new man. New to the workers, old to her. He picks out her group of workers (they were getting praise from all the townspeople for their work ethic) to head and they start off on _just another day_.

"Name's Barret Wallace, and this's my home. I'll be leadin' ya from here."

Elfé, known as Corro, keeps her hat low over her eyes and doesn't make a sound when the rest of the men cheer.  
>_<p>

Every night in the mess hall, it's the same thing. She sits in a corner and eats a bit and listens to the other men talk. It reminds her of all those nights after successful missions. Everyone has a goal and that makes them happy.

She inadvertently draws his attention by trying not to draw attention. Sitting in that back corner, he follows her and sits down, twice as much food on his plate.

This makes sense to her, he's two…almost three times her size.

"Corro, right?" Barret Wallace is loud even when he's being quiet, and she just nods. "Hearing good things about ya."

She nods again, not trusting her voice. Because she's pretending to be male and for some reason she's sure he'll be able to tell she's not.

Elfé knows why he's been hearing about her. She works harder than all the other men (because she's smaller, she almost _has_ to in order to keep up), doesn't complain, works far more than her cost in food…

She knows some people are suspicious of her, though, because she's so quiet.

"You don't say much," he states, and she nods.

"No sir," she decides to say, in a practiced male voice. "Just…don't got much to say."

Barret nods.

"I hear ya're here on yer own."

"Yes sir."

"You got family?" Elfé nods. "Mom? Dad?"

"Pa," she says, adopting the name Shears used to use for his parents. "Ma's dead." Barret nods again. Of course he understands that.

"It's a good thing yer doin'. Yer Pa must be proud."

And Elfé puts her head on the table and shrugs.

"Dunno, sir." It's the first honest thing she says in months.  
>_<p>

Elfé's been working hard, and her voice is rough enough from nonuse to actually begin to pass for a male, at least slightly.

She has her own tent, now. More of a lean-to, but it's all her own. She feels bad about that, but it's something Barret declared.

She's actually got a promotion, sort of. She's in charge of the record keeping at night, after the building is done. That's why she's got her own place, Barret said. Because she's keeping track of the books.

It's also been pointed out to her that she's not scared of Barret, specifically his prosthetic gunarm. She's asked about it.

"My friend had one," she muttered. "T'wasn't a gun, but…My pa too…"

Elfé sees the cogs working in Barret's mind. There aren't many people who have prosthetics.  
>_<p>

It is a full year before someone walks onto their happiness.

Specifically, it's a man in a blue suit.

The dinner bell is rung during midday and everyone knows something isn't right so they all gather in the main square and Elfé goes along with a sinking feeling of dread.

It looks like a great fighter ring, with all the men circled around the man in the blue suit and the ex-miner.

Turk vs Terrorist; Veld vs. Barret.

Even if the people didn't know Veld by his face (which was highly unlikely) they knew him by his suit, and the tensions went volatile instantly. Barret crossed his arms and barked

"Whadda want?"

Veld seemed unfazed by the sheer number of people glaring at him with intent to kill.

"I'm looking for someone," he says simply. He crosses his arm as well. Sunlight glints off of the two men's prosthetic arms. That sinking feeling Elfé felt earlier intensifies. Someone makes some comment about the Turk coming to kill someone and the whole crowd roars to life.

Barret shoots three times into the air and it gets silent again.

"Who?"

"My _daughter_." Elfé's face literally falls, but no one notices. Barret puts his now-gun-arm at his side.

"Elfé."Barret states, and Veld looks shocked. He uncrosses his arm and nods…slowly. "What, Turk, ya think I don't know yer girl?" Veld says nothing. "Why do ya think she's here?"

"Because, if she's anything like me she'll—"Veld starts and Barret cuts him off.

"What did you just say?"

"I meant…" Veld chooses his next words carefully. "She would want to give back to…"

"To Corel, 'cause she thinks it's 'er fault." Veld sighs and rubs his forehead. "Corro!" Both Elfé and Veld start, and everyone's eyes are on her.

"Ye-Yessir?" she calls, but doesn't move from the crowd.

"There anyone named Elfé here?"

_Yes_. "N-not on record, Sir!"

Barret turns to look at her. Veld has locked on to her too. He looks a bit shocked at her appearance, but he knows.

And so too does Barret.

"Do you want to go _home_, Corro?"

Now everyone's muttering because they just don't understand what's going on. Finally she steps forward and takes off her hat.

Barret stares at her, no one else, and asks again

"You wanna go home… Elfé?" She lets out a sigh.

"Barret Wallace," she says, and her own voice, her real voice, sounds so weird. It's been a year since she's heard it. "I'm…"

"Don't be," he interrupts, and walks forwards to put his hands on her shoulders. His gunarm is harmless again. She's dwarfed by his size but doesn't flinch. "I'm proud of ya."

She stares at him and actually smiles slightly.

"I don't deserve it."

"Yeah? I don't deserve to be a hero…"

She nods.

"Elfé," he adds, as he lets go. "I think that damn Turk is proud of ya too."  
>_<p>

Barret seems sad to watch them go, but Elfé never looked back to check his reaction. The man walked back to his tent and went to an old, heavy traveling trunk. Out of it he pulled a sort of folder.

In it were all the things from back when he'd started AVALANCHE in Midgar. It seemed like decades ago, not two years…

One thing he still had was the old "WANTED" pictures, of the original AVALANCHE leaders. He found Elfé's picture easily, and stared at it for a long time.

Yeah, he'd forgiven her. Because the Corel incident for her was Sector Seven for him. And he got that now.

Plus…he never expected her to be so…small. The Shinra broadcasts had made her into some monster, and yet she was just this…tiny little girl. He couldn't imagine Marlene in her shoes. He didn't want to.

He noticed, strangely, that the corner was turned down. It hadn't been the last time. Flipping it over, his eyes widened slightly when he saw the writing.

_My only regret is that I didn't actually save anyone. –_ _Elfé_

There was a knock at the door. The men wanted an explanation. Flipping the paper back over, he picked up the folder.

It was time they knew about AVALANCHE.


	4. Call of the Wild

**A/M :** To call Elfé a nature lover would be an understatement. However, this short fictlet spawned from the joke one RP partner told me, in which Elfé wass compared to, of all people, Snow White.

* * *

><p><em>I wonder exactly how long Veld is going to pretend not to notice<em>, Elfé thought as she filled up the sink her her bathroom with water. The tiny duckling in her hands quacked happily as it saw it's personal swimming pool appear.

She set the small creature into the water and smiled as it swam back and forth, quacking at her.

_Perhaps I could have explained the dog…maybe even the hedgehog…or the mu that won't leave the backyard. I'm never going to be able to explain a duck though_.

It was a problem she'd always had, though. Even in the labs, she'd always felt some sort of kinship to the non-human creatures. She didn't think Zirconiade had anything to do with it. She just thought she was strange.

She used to sit out in the forests and talk to the birds. She really did think they understood her, and she them. She once called a fish out and asked if it knew of any food for humans. It had swum downstream to show her a berry busy.

It was a wonder she wasn't a vegetarian.

So, for as long as she could remember, she'd been picking up strays. Of_any_ classification.

Terror, the kitten so fondly named by Veld, jump up to her shoulders and looked down at the duck swimming back and forth in the sink.

"You can't eat her, Terror," Elfé warned. The kitten mewed and jumped to sit on the faucet. The duckling didn't seem to mind.

The door creaked open and in walked a tired old husky. In his mouth he seemed to be holding some prickly object, which he set down on the ground before padding over to plop at Elfé's feet. The prickly thing unrolled to reveal a hedgehog. Elfé pet the dog's head as the hedgehog happily scurried around the bathroom.

_Oh, I'm sure he knows._ There was a story behind each animal. Terror was a gift from Commissioner Tuesti. The only pet Elfé was _supposed_ to have.

Blitz, the Husky, actually belonged to one of the people in town. Used to, at least. Elfé had found him tied up outside, hungry and afraid during a storm. He'd spent the rest of said storm hiding under her bed. He now assumed that was his home.

Kiwi the Hedgehog she'd found in the forest while camping. When she'd come home, he'd rolled out of her bag. She hadn't meant to keep him, honest. He and Blitz where friends.

And now the duckling. Honest, she hadn't even been paying attention while she'd been out fishing. She'd gathered up her things and started walking home when she'd heard it's quack. She'd tried to get it to go home, but it kept following her. All the way back to the house. It'd even gotten up the first two steps to the porch before Elfé had relented and picked it up.

Now it was swimming in the sink.

"What am I going to tell Veld?" she rolled her eyes, knowing it would be impossible to convince such a practical man to allow her to keep so many animals. But for now, that didn't matter. "More importantly….what should I call you?"


	5. Something Worse

**A/N** No prompt this time...just...

I really shouldn't upload this one. But I am. This is all headcanon. There is nothing that states any of this.

Also, this references a few role plays where Elfé is dating Tseng of the Turks. He's known as Zeng here.

**_IMPORTANT_**

**_This contains Triggers. Please, skip this fiction if you find yourself being triggered by: Depression. Self-harm. Infertility. _**

* * *

><p>She'd finally broken down and gone to a doctor. Because looking for her old experimental records was an impossible find and her medical records were lost to time.<p>

When she'd gone to get the preliminary tests, she hadn't told anyone. _Her little secret_. But the doctors had called the house and she'd been out running with the wolves, so Veld had picked up the phone.

He didn't go with her for the second set, even though he offered. She'd set the appointment without him knowing and slipped out the window two days early to mislead him.

But when she got the call that they needed her to come back _one more_ time, she stopped going alone.

Veld had driven them in a car she didn't know they had. She'd been wearing "civilian" clothes. Trying to look "normal." She'd stared out the window the whole way there. If he would have guessed, he would have thought she might be praying.

She was too quiet.

Veld thought they were going to a funeral.

Granted, he hated doctors almost as much as she did. So he offered to hold her hand in the waiting room. She'd refused the advance and sat stiffly on the chair next to him. The women around the room had looked at them both. Veld imagined they looked like a strange pair.

"Felicia?" They'd called, and he'd started. She hadn't looked at him at all when she'd stood up and walked stiffly after the nurse.

All the women were staring at him until they heard the crash. Well, to anyone normal, it would have been a crash, or a bang, or just some other classification of a loud noise.

To Veld, it was the sound of someone's fist hitting something metal.

The women had muttered to themselves and he'd tried to read a magazine.

The door had opened and he'd looked up.

She had walked out, the nurse hurrying after her. Her hand was sporting a bandage that hadn't been there before.

When he'd raised an eyebrow, she'd simply shrugged.

"I hit a lamp."

-x-

Halfway home she'd taken off her seatbelt and opened the car door. Veld was just happy they were on an old, deserted mountain road and he'd been driving slowly.

He'd slammed on the breaks as she'd stumbled out and walked to the edge, staring down into the valley below.

"Elfé?" he'd whispered.

He knew he'd never forget what he saw. She turned around and stared at him. Her eyes were glass; tears were silently streaming down her face. The document the doctors had given her was crumpled in her fingers.

"Papa…" she'd said. He'd stared back. "Papa…"

He'd done the only thing he could think of. He'd opened his arms and held her as she'd sobbed.

-x-

She was listening to Veld talk on the phone. She knew who he was talking to. She didn't want him to do it, though.

She hated herself at that moment. Because she was sitting in the corner of her room, in the dark. And trying to waste away.

Veld wouldn't let her.

"Elfé."

She wouldn't answer him.

"Elfé, I'm going to pick the lock."

She'd put a chair in front of it. He couldn't get in anyway.

"Elfé, I called Zeng."

She wished he wouldn't do that.

"Elfé, I love you so much."

"I'm sorry Papa."

-x-

"You don't get it, Zeng, she's got the door reinforced by now…"

They're talking outside.

"Elfé! Let me in!"

Veld, go away. I'm happy in here.

"Please."

She almost got up to let him in. She'd never heard a Turk say please.

-x-

This was ridiculous. She hadn't eaten right in two days (she'd run out of her stocks at the beginning of week). She'd started to forget what sunlight looked like. She was weak. And now she was imagining something was knocking on her window.

_That's not your imagination_.

She stood up slowly. She'd sat in the same position for a long time. Complacent with inactivity. She used the wall as a crutch. Blinded herself by opening the blinds and staring into the sun.

Zeng was knocking on her window by sitting in the tree outside it and throwing rocks.

She closed the blinds and went back to her wall.

Zeng threw three rocks in quick succession. He's doing Morse code using rocks and her window.

_If you don't open the window I'll break it._

She doesn't move. Not even when the window shatters.

Zeng climbs into the room and she turns toward the wall. She hears the crunch of glass under his shoes. "Two weeks…"

It's nice to hear his voice again. She tucks herself closer to the wall.

She feels his hands on her shoulders. He's kneeling behind her, if she'd guess. His thumbs stroke her shoulders.

"Two weeks," he repeats. "Veld won't tell me why…"

_I thought he would have_.

"Elfé, can I see you?"

She shakes her head.

"Whatever it was…I still-" She moves so quickly. She didn't even remember that she could move this quickly. She turns and presses her hands to his mouth to stifle the words. Zeng's holding onto one of her wrists. He never worries that she's going to attack him anymore.

She wonders what she looks like and why it makes his eyes widen like that.

He pulls her close and she doesn't resist. Ragdoll-like, she leans limply against him and staring at the wall. Always staring.

"Elfé."

Go away Zeng.

"Elfé, tell me what's wrong."

Find someone better.

"Elfé, please."

Another Turk said please. She pushes him away and finds her sketchpad. It flies out the broken window. The Turk watches it go. He gets the picture.

"I love you." He kisses her temple.

She points out the window.

-x-

Veld finds him out in the forest. In the clearing where he and Elfé went camping. That was ages ago.

The sun is setting now. Zeng's form is cast in shadow, and he doesn't bother to look up when Veld approaches. A reprimand about caution dies on the elder's tongue. Now is not the time.

"She didn't tell you, did she?"

Zeng shakes his head, but turns to the other and frowns.

"Not with words, Sir."

The sketchbook is in his hands. Beautiful green leather with gold trim, kept immaculate. Veld's never seen it before. He knows who it belongs to.

He sits next to the man he knows will be his son-in-law eventually. Takes the book from his hands.

"Did she say I could see?"

"She didn't say anything, Sir."

Veld opens the book and reads the first page.

_Never_

One word, in Elfé's script. Neat and plain in black ink on the center of the page. Veld doesn't look up. Zeng is staring at the setting sun. Neither man speaks.

The next page is a recreation of a picture they'd both seen once before. A girl between two men. One with glasses, one with a bandana. _Everything's alright_ reads the caption. Then the title of the book is inserted. _Everything's Never Alright._

Each turn of the page gets harder to look at, even for the battle hardened Turk Leader. He realizes Zeng's already seen them all. He's been out here awhile.

"Is that…" This page stops him as well. There's a little girl handing a flower to some sort of monster. Zeng shrugs. "That's Felicia, so…"

"Zirconaide, I'd assume."

The title is _Fire, never flowers_.

Veld turns the page again.

-x-

It's near the end Veld thanks himself for all those years of being a Turk.

A lesser man would have been sobbing by now.

_Each page a dream that will never be realized._

Zeng's still staring at the sky. He holds a flashlight for his former Director.

There's a page that's completely black. He stares at it for a while before realizing what it means.

Darkness. Death. The girl who will never die.

The page is turned.

A wedding. Veld looks at Zeng.

"Elfé al'Corro?"

"Felicia sounds better," the boy answers, before flipping the page again.

-x-

It's the final filled page, and Veld realizes Zeng hasn't seen this one yet. Because he's just looking at the picture. Veld stares as well, but he knew this was coming.

It's a series of family pictures, that's all. Mother, father, sister, brother, dog. Ideal family.

The father is Wutainese, the mother some sort of mutt, the children having their mother's hair and their father's eyes.

Apparently it's not the final page. Zeng reaches over one more time, and points to the picture on the back.

"She looks just like Laura," Veld breaths before he can stop himself.

Elfé's smiling at them from the paper, a small bundle rocking gently in her arms. Her eyes are full of life and joy and light.

The title of the book rings in both men's ears.

_Never_.

-x-

Zeng climbs back in the window. Walks over to the door and unlocks it. Moves the chair back to its place beside the bed. Never once does he look at the small form in the corner.

He opens the door and light filters in from the hall. Only then does he turn to the woman whose room he's invaded.

Four steps later, he is by her side.

"It's time we got you cleaned up," he says. Elfé just pees back at him as if he's crazy. So he picks her up. She hardly weighs anything.

He takes her from the room and she's wiggling in his arms, trying to find a way back to the darkness.

He promised he'd never hurt her.

Her eyes say it. _You promised. You. Promised!_

"I know. You think it's safe in there, Elfé. But it's not. I know. I promised to never hurt you. That includes never letting you hurt yourself."

He nudges open the door to the bathroom. Sets her in the bathtub and contemplates his next move. She doesn't look at him.

He turns to close the door and Elfé's at his back, trying to leave.

The mirror stops her.

She stares at herself.

Zeng covers the mirror with a towel. It's easier to get her in the tub the second time.

-x-

He offers to carry her down the stairs but she refuses.

He holds her waist and walks down with her anyway.

Wonderful smells filter from the kitchen as they pass. The light in the dining room is on.

_We never eat in that room_.

The table is set for eight. Elfé clings to the doorframe, peering at the table. She looks at Zeng, then back at the table.

"Come on, let's get you seated," he mutters in her ear, and pries her fingers from the frame. He pulls out the seat at the head of the table and sits her down. Pushes her in and puts a napkin in her lap. Another kiss to the temple and he backs away.

She seems to panic, looking around as if it's all a dream. She then calms herself, puts her hands in her lap and stares at them.

"Company?" she whispers. The first word in two weeks. Her voice is soft, broken, and rough from nonuse.

"Yes."

"…Who?"

"My grandchildren," Veld enters the room, carrying serving dishes. He hands them to Zeng and disappears back into the hallway. Elfé's staring at the hole in the doorway where Veld was while Zeng puts the food on the table.

The next person through the door is Vincent Valentine. He pulls the chair Elfé's sitting in back, kneels in front of her, down on her level. She gives him a hug.

A lesser woman would have started crying.

She's pushed back in with the only explanation of Vincent's appearance being "Family Gathering."

Veld's back, putting more food on the table. Counting the days, Elfé realizes she's the one who should have cooked today.

Zeng pulls out a chair nearest to Elfé and sits down. Vincent leaves on chair open on the other side and sits down next to it. Veld stands behind the empty chair next to Vincent and stares at his daughter.

She's looking back at him.

"Grandchildren?" she whispers. "Papa…I can't…you…"

Veld holds up one hand and her voice dies. He turns back to the door. Zeng and Vincent do as well.

In walks Blitz, Kiwi on his head as always. Terror stalks in afterwards, Ki waddling behind her. The dog leads in this strange parade, and Veld picks up the small animal on the dog's head and places him at the seat next to Vincent.

Elfé's breathing stops.

Terror jumps to the seat next to Zeng, and, with some help, Ki is placed next to the cat. Blitz climbs up into the chair opposite Elfé and turns to face her.

She realizes then that not all the food on the table is for humans.

Her eyes lock on Veld.

He smiles at her as he sits down. He takes her hand in his.

"I invited Vincent. The cat, you know. He's envious, as always…" he said. Elfé clutches at his hand. She can't speak. Zeng takes her other hand and presses kisses to her fingers. Vincent the human smiles at her from his seat.

"Veld…but…I…" She's struggling. Her hands are shaking in the men's grips. They know she's going to start crying.

"Look, Elfé," Zeng whispers. "Look at your _children_."

She covers her face with her hands and sobs into them.

They all move at once, and when she opens her eyes again, Zeng's holding her from one side, Veld from the other. Vincent's behind her, his arms loosely around her shoulders. Blitz is staring up at her from where his head is in her lap. The other three animals are sitting in front of her. Terror paws at her hands.

She can't stop crying.

-x-

There's a picture hanging on Zeng's living room wall. It's the only piece of art he has up right now, apart from the mosaic in his office.

Zeng is in the picture, a woman is beside him, one of his arms is wrapped around her. On his head, strangely enough, is a hedgehog. In the woman's arms, there is a kitten and, yes, you see it right, a duckling. Sitting proudly in front of him is an old husky. One of Zeng's hands is resting on the dog's head.

The woman is smiling.


	6. There's Got to be Something

**A/N **For those who know BC, there are common "ships" with Elfé. Fuhito, Shears, Sephiroth, and Rufus are the males, honestly. This fiction spawned while I was still new to any pairing but Elfé/Shears. So I got the prompt to write Elfé/Rufus.

So here it is.

Headcanon Note: While Rufus Shinra funded AVALANCHE, he went under the pseudonym "Rin."

* * *

><p>She and Veld sat in the living room together when Reeve Tuesti announced that the WRO had been receiving funding from an anonymous donor and extended his thanks. Veld made some noncommunicable grunt of disbelief until she got up and left the room without a word.<p>

He called after her, questioning, curious…_Being a Turk again_…and she didn't answer. She, personally, believed he should have _known_ why she had left.

Going up to her room and slamming the door with more force than possibly was necessary, she dug out an old PHS from the bag of AVALANCHE gear she left in the furthest corner of her closet and reattached the battery.

_Anonymous Donor? Not quite. _Laying down on her bed, she dialed a number she didn't even think would connect.

It picked up on the third ring.

"_Elfé." _

"What are you up to _now_ Rufus?"  
>_<p>

Naturally, she doesn't tell Veld she's going anywhere and he ended up calling her because she left her window open.

She ignored the call. Never a good idea. But she didn't care.

"Minerva…this cafe is still here?" She muttered, dropping her bag at her feet in slight amazement.

"I though the same thing." She didn't turn around to face him. He picked up her bag and walked to a table, flagging a waiter as he did.

_He's wearing a bloody WRO uniform…_

But he still walks as if the ground beneath his feet belongs to him. Yet his head is turned down, just slightly, as if it hurt to keep standing tall. He's exactly the same and completely different at the same time.

She pulls him up from the chair he'd just sat down in and stares him in the eyes.

"Who are you and where the _hell_ is Rufus Shinra?"

"Nice to see you haven't changed one bit."

She drops him back into his chair as the waiter approaches.  
>_<p>

Their small talk is…awkward, at best. They never were good at it, Elfé recalls. She asks him about work and he tells her he's in the aviation department at the WRO, moonlighting as the mysterious donor (which is why she called).

He asks _her_ about work and she mutters that she's unemployed.

No one wants to hire a terrorist.

He prods her about that, and she sighs and states that she's the commander of the 13th Civilian Volunteer Corps.

He grins and she resists the urge to _respectfully _punch him in his shiny white teeth.

It scares her for a moment that he looks like he's _actually_ smiling.

"What name are you filed under?" she asks, halfway through lunch.

"You're going to go and give me a background check, aren't you?" Rufus mutters, but pulls out his wallet and hands her his WRO issued id. She tries not to notice that his _once smooth hands_ now have callouses, and not just from his guns.

_Rin Alexander_.

Her forehead hits the table and he waves for the check.  
>_<p>

"How has no one _caught_ you yet?" she asks, for the sixth time. She's kept count on her fingers.

They're walking along Junon Port. The water is actually blue-green today.

"I assumed _you_ had caught me, hence the call." He skips a rock over the water idly.

"I'm going to report you to Reeve."

"Oh, he already knows." There's a bit of smugness in that comment. She turns to stare at him and waits for his eyes before asking the question that's burning on her tongue.

"What are you doing, Rufus?" she asks. "With the WRO?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, and she thinks he actually sounds sincere.

She doesn't answer him right away. Oh, she has an answer for him, for sure. But she doesn't say it.

_I want to know you're doing this because you are good and not because you have a hidden motive_.

Because that was all AVALANCHE was to him, and she doesn't want to see the WRO become another venture like that.

In AVALANCHE, at first, he was just Rin, the mysterious man who wanted to help them. And he always had the blueprints she needed, or the extra bit of funds, or that one tidbit of information. Even when she'd discovered who he was and threatened to expose him, he still wanted to help.

She never forgot the day he chose to surrender in order to buy them time, or how he sent her a message through St. Andrew to check on her wellbeing. How he still tried to _help_ despite being closely monitored all hours of the day.

How he had her "dead body" loaded into the back of a truck and held her hand as she thought she was dying because everyone else who'd ever cared about her was dead or bleeding next to her.

She never forgot the betrayal when she was strong enough to stand and learned from her own research that he was only trying to bring down his own father and didn't care at all for her little band of thieves and wanted the world for himself.

Because, in one moment, she'd believed he actually _cared_.

In the end, he was just another Shinra.

"Why are you funding the WRO?" she clarifies.

"Because I need to repay my debt to the Planet," he replies.

This time she actually _does_ try to punch him.  
>_<p>

Sometime later they're laying side by side in the grass (_Real grass, don't you see it?_) and not talking. The cure materia has worked and Rufus's face looks alright. She feels kind of bad for hitting him.

Kind of.

_He's just another Shinra_.

"I like Reeve," his voice breaks the silence. "Like the father I never really had. Him and…well, Veld."

She doesn't say anything.

"I want to see him succeed. He was always the only man on the Board of Directors I ever appreciated. I think it's amazing he's pulled off most of this by himself. I just want to help…"

"Shut up. You talk to much."

"Cloud said the same thing."

"Smart boy."

Rufus stops talking before Elfé can add anything more. The silence seeps in again.

"Don't you betray him like you did me, Rufus." Her tone is low, warning. The Huntress lurking behind the facade of the woman. "I swear to all Gaia I will destroy you."

She expected him to laugh, or some smug remark. That's what the old Rufus would have done.

Instead, he grabs her hands and stares into her eyes like no other living human would. "Is _that_ what you thought? Gods I'm _sorry_ Elfé."

She can't believe her ears.  
>_<p>

Veld calls the ninth time and she finally picks up her phone and ignores the fact that Rufus is staring awkwardly at her hands while she listens to Veld be Veld.

"The shards are…"

"They'll always be there," she says, clicking the phone shut. "Veld's coming. Do you want to run or…"

"I'm fine."

They sit on a bench together, and Elfé wonders when exactly he started holding her hand. Or she started holding his. She's staring at the sky and he's staring at his feet.

"You…seeing anyone?" he asks finally.

"Like a doctor?" she returns. She doesn't smile.

"Like a boyfriend." She shakes her head. "Girlfriend?" She shakes again, and gives him a look. "What, I was being equal…So you're single?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm…just surprised."

"No one wants to date a broken, twisted old terrorist," she replies, crossing her arms.

"Broken, sure. Twisted…yeah, no more than anyone else. You forgot beautiful."

She jumps off the bench like he's caught her hair on fire. He's smiling the devil's smile.

"Would you date me?" he asks. And _she_ laughs this time. "No, seriously." She stops laughing…stares at him. "Well?"

"No." And mentally she kicks herself. But the word is already out and he's leaning forward, calculating.

"Why not."

"You deserve something…" what? She can't even complete the sentence.

"I think you made it pretty clear earlier I don't deserve much of anything."

"So you'll settle for me then?" She's surprised that her tone is offended. He frowns.

"That's not what I meant at all."

"Goodbye Rin." Rin. She's calling him _Rin_ again.

She turns and runs away before he notices she's crying.

Because he'll never be another Shinra. He's her _Shinra. _Her _Rin_, and she doesn't want to get hurt again.


	7. Everything Burns

__**A/N **Written for the prompt "The World ends with Two Words" on Tumblr. The piece that made everyone cry, for no reason other than it's sad. Pulls the headcanon that Elfé is immortal, and so is Vincent.

Also, as developed from RolePlaying, Elfé has a tendency to call Vincent "Mom."

* * *

><p><em>You are the one who will burn all things.<em>

Those were the first words that stuck in her consciousness from a creature with a name she couldn't possibly begin to pronounce.

Every day those words would ring, reminding her of who she was to be.

Then one day the ringing stopped, at least briefly, and she began to believe everything was going to be okay.

That wasn't the case, but delusions are best made from hopes and dreams.

When Veld died, finally (she says finally because for a Turk he lived basically forever and as her father he'd been resurrected a few times and she wasn't sure if he was really gone), she'd looked in the mirror and saw that she was still, in fact, 23 years old.

She had, in fact, been 23 for a long time. Although she hadn't realized it.

The others died in a whirlwind of black and bleak and unending mourning and sooner or later her favorite color became black and white, because she was equally Junonian and Solian. Those from Junon said black was the color of death. The Soli said white.

She walked around like a ghost before the other person like her told her to stop and they hung out together a lot and soon enough someone asked if they were married.

_No. Not married. This is my mo-my father. Well, sorta. Nevermind. You wouldn't get it anyway._

They started introducing each other as siblings. _I'm Felicia, this is my brother, Vincent._ There's about 35 years of an age difference between them. It looks to be about 4 years.

Civilizations have risen and fallen. She's sitting in a tree and he's making something in a stewpot over the fire. 600 years later and he finally knows how to cook.

She's died her hair red for the fun of it. Then purple. Then black. They actually_look_ like siblings for awhile.

He asked for a haircut and he looks like a Turk again. She makes him promise not to shoot anyone. He breaks the promise two days later.

They separate after 800 years, and neither of them know the reason why. She goes back "home," to Cosmo Canyon, and they all stare at her like she's some gods-sent. She realizes later that she must have appeared like that, since someone had drawn her into the legends.

She visits Nanki's children.

He goes and lurks somewhere, she actually doesn't know. She thinks he actually re-integrated into society to learn exactly _how backwards_ they both had become.

They meet up after 100 more years because it's _just so depressing_ to watch normal people live and die.

The ultimate curse is to live forever.

Ironically they both end up as librarians, because they suddenly _need_ to be around mortals but don't want to get to know anyone because they eventually die. It finally seems to be their home until they live too long and someone asks how come the librarians never change and the place mysteriously burned down but all the books were okay. The librarians were never found.

It's weird to attend your own funeral.

1000+ years later she finds herself in a relationship again but it goes nowhere and that was for the best. Her friend had a few, on and off. They always go to the funerals. It's very grim.

She doesn't stop wearing white or black.

He still wears black and red.

They see no reason to change this.

Something takes them back to Midgar, or Edge, or what used to be Midgar and Edge but now is something else, and she finds, of all things, a stuffed cat with a cape and a crown and a megaphone and he buys it for her and people again start asking them if they are married and Vincent mutters "yes" and she just stares at him and he shrugs.

They're not, really. She reminds him too much of his dead partner and he reminds her too much of her dead father. But it's easier than saying siblings and it really makes more sense. Because they never have "eyes" of anyone else but each other.

Because their eyes are so old they dare not let anyone else stare into them.

Sometime after two centuries she stops counting how long she's been alive and realizes that she can no longer remember Shears's voice or Fuhito's laugh or Chelsea's smile or Veld's lullaby.

The stress of it all causes her to go blind.

The sudden loss of her eyes makes her realize he's probably had it worse, he's been around longer, and now he has to lead her around like a dog.

One day, he actually changes _into_ a dog. Actually, it's Galian Beast but she can't tell what it is only that it has fur and it growled at her until she swatted it on the nose.

He changes periodically into those daemons, every one but Chaos, almost as if to test the waters. To see if he still has control. And she hears the ringing again but she doesn't tell him. He already knows so she doesn't say it.

She's been quiet for about a century and it's been close to a millennium or so when he changes into Chaos and they stare at each other because oh-so-suddenly her eyes are back.

And she screams at him and he apologizes when he changes back and they both start counting the months on their fingers.

One day he calls her name and she doesn't answer. So he calls to the creature with the name she couldn't possibly pronounce and she turns to stare at him.

They miscalculated.

He tries to plead with the creature who's taken over the girl who is not his sibling or wife or daughter but is basically all of those and yes he does love her it hasn't taken all these years to figure it out and can't you just wait a little longer, humanity just figured out what they were doing wrong…

But the Planet is dead and has been for a long time and they both know that so the girl who is not a girl anymore stands up and he cries, actually cries, because she can't anymore.

And then he can't cry anymore either because he's dead and so is she but no one can tell or say anything because they're all dead too. Or going to be.

Because the world ends when you realize two words.

_Everything Burns._


	8. Shadow Walk

Shadow Walk  
>(AU doesn't always save lives)<p>

Oh this...yes this is AU. This is AU because Hojo is still alive in it, but it's after DoC. The tagline above is a play on "AU saves lives," which some of my friends tag all their blog posts with.

This is...only partially my fault. The other half is Hojo's fault, so it's also Crimson-sun's fault. He roleplayed with my Elfé, and then drew the picture, I just wrote the fict...So yes, all the tense issues are mine.

The set up for this is simple: Elfé wants the details about what happened to her. So she went to find Hojo.

Headcanon credit to Crimson-sun, Drakonlily, and Nashi.

* * *

><p>Veld came home one day and Elfé's room was empty. Her bed was made, the room dusted, everything was in perfect order. It looked like a display room. Perfectly decorated and uninhabited. Like someone had been gone for a long time, and maybe would not be coming back.<p>

The only thing out of place was a folded set of instructions on her pillow. It spoke of exactly how to take care of each of her pets for an extended period of time.

Her desk was neatly organized in the study. All of her art supplies put in drawers neatly, canvases stored away for protection. Books organized by genre and author's last name on shelves. Curtains drawn to prevent too much sun exposure.

There was no notion of where she had gone or when she would get back.

He found her will and testament the next day.

-x-

The true whole story started with her being invited in for tea.

_It had taken her months to find this man. Her boots made no noise as she walked across the wet ground in Mideel. It was raining. For a girl with a soul of fire, she certainly did love the rain. It muffled all of her actions and made her a ghost as she strode through the town. Her old uniform donned, her katana out in the obvious. _

If she would go back and think about it, she had made it to this point by sheer determination to prove this man wrong.

_"Now that you __**have**__, you've reminded me of how interesting having company can be, and I have no intention of letting you walk out of my life so soon."_

Tea had turned to dinner which had ended with him eating while she watched silently. She had listened to him talk about his experiments in general, the burning of Kalm, Veld. She refused to drink or eat in his presence.

_An unmovable object. _

Professor Hojo liked to talk. He didn't seem to care that he was talking to a woman who wanted to kill him after getting certain information.

_Lonely old man_.

In the end, it was dark and he refused to let her leave. He'd walked her up to the spare bedroom and opened the door.

She wasn't leaving without her files.

It's all just a game, isn't it?

-x-

The first night, she sat cross-legged on her bed and watched the door. She left her katana resting on her lap. It was an obvious threat.

She took sleeping off the list of things she can do while he's around.

Childhood paranoia made her fear this man more than hate him. He called out for Felicia, _Miss Felicia_, and so the ghost of the little girl answered. The battle-hardened terrorist crumpled under the overwhelming phobia Felicia had developed.

No one could blame her.

She'd gotten maybe five minutes of sleep at sunrise. Meditation to prepare her for the day. She'd worked on less sleep for longer periods.

Whatever she needed to do to win.

-x-

She basically inhabited the spare bedroom, and maybe the kitchen. Otherwise she was outside, probably purposefully getting as muddy as possible so she could track it all into his house.

Her room was still very neat. She made the bed every morning. Kept the room looking unoccupied, even though she was always there. It was as if she was erasing her own existence.

She lived out of an old rucksack that had seen better days. She wouldn't use the dresser or the closet.

The spare bedroom doubled as a book storage area, she learned upon inspection.

The only thing she could get herself to respect from him was the sheer number of books she found everywhere. She sorted them by genre, he had a bit of everything. (Including three copies of _Loveless_ and a few random paperback romance novels…which were thrown together under the bed, never to be seen from again).

By the end of the first week she'd organized them all by author. And began reading from the A's.

-x-

Even though she didn't eat anything around him, she still joined him for dinner each night.

_"I'm working on being more polite. Conversational. I would much rather burn your house down. Although that would be counterproductive."_

_"Polite! And yet you track mud into my house and refuse all my acts of __**goodwil**__l."_

Sometimes she brought a notebook down and asked him questions that paralleled her search for her experimentation records. Other times she just wrote what he was doing. Sometimes she brought a book, and read at the table.

If he was ever cutting something, her eyes would follow his every move.

-x-

Really, she's probably hit that point where she's gone insane.

Three weeks was all it took for her to realize this. After all, she is living now with the man who ruined her life. The man who took it upon himself to see that she _blossomed_ to her full potential.

Or something.

She'd begun to make lists. Observational lists. Technical lists. Times and dates and what he's done every moment of every day.

Planning, apparently. For what, she didn't know. But she knew to list. To write. To assemble information.

She wrote down times. When he woke up and went to sleep. When he ate. When he left and when he came back. She wrote down information. He took sleep medication (two pills), and sometimes that didn't help. He had an electric toothbrush. Three pairs of shoes.

Lists, so many lists.

A scientist viewing her specimen in its natural habitat.

-x-

"Miss Felicia, do you want anything from the store…?"

A note was made in the book. He's asked her every week. The same response comes from her lips.

"No."

_Why can't you just call me __Elfé_ _like everyone else?_ Veld was the only one who called her _Felicia_.

He leaves and she stands up. Stands by the window and watches as he walks away.

She stands there for twenty or so minutes before going downstairs and stealing food from the pantry. She's storing it in the closet behind the books.

She knows he's purposefully buying the things she steals.

She showers and sleeps and eats all in the time he's gone. She's trained herself to the sound of the door.

-x-

At dinner again, she's reading a book with an author name in the Ns. He's eating.

"What are you reading, Miss Felicia?"

"Elfé." She corrects. She doesn't look up.

"Is that the title or…"

"That's my _name_."

"Your name is Felicia Dragoon, I believe."

The book was closed and set on the table.

"Professor, my name is Elfé."

"The person named Elfé is your coping mechanism, Miss Felicia. But that's nothing to be ashamed about."

"You have it wrong." She stood up, book tucked under her arm. "_Felicia_ is the coping method. Elfé is me."

She walked out of the kitchen. He was fighting back laughter.

She never did get to finish that book. _And_ the burn marks in the sink never came out.

-x-

There's a thunderstorm one night. She walks outside and stands in it. Lifts her head to the sky and sings to the lightening. He's watching her from the front porch.

It's at moments like these where she's one with the WEAPON that was now only in the recesses of her mind.

When the rain stops she comes back inside and shakes water onto his floor. He rolls his eyes and makes some comment about her age.

She reminds him again that she's eight and doesn't know any better.

-x-

The nights are long sometimes, and reading doesn't help pass the time. She listens to Hojo pace on the nights that he cannot fall asleep, even with the medication. She records these nights in her notebook.

She's running out of pages.

She hears him pacing and leaves the sanctity of her room and steals silently down the stairs.

In complete darkness, she walks into the kitchen and takes a knife from the back of the middle left drawer.

-x-

Then it begins.

She doesn't remember the exact thought process that had her standing in his doorway, watching him sleep with a knife in her hand.

All she knows is that she's there, watching him breathe, and wondering exactly how much it would take just to make it all _stop_.

-x-

She's gotten quieter over these days…weeks…months…however long she's spent being the ghost in Hojo's spare bedroom.

He leaves for the store, still asking if she wants anything, still getting the same "No."

She explores the house instead of sleeping. Finds a computer with a ten-digit code. Adds its location to the list.

Finds pictures of other scientists and a man with the same eyes as her sister. The location is added to the list.

Finds a velvet box with two wedding rings inside.

She starts to laugh.

-x-

Like a ghost, she's standing by his bedside. In her lists, she has recorded every night she's done this. So many tick marks.

Each day she's gotten closer until she's standing beside him, knife still in hand. Why she felt the need to grab one of his was anyone's guess. She has her own weapons after all.

But it's one of his kitchen knives in her hand like a dagger.

She's like a shadow, just standing beside him.

_All I ever wanted was to go home._

_-x-_

"Do it."

The words shock her out of her meditation. She looks down, where the knife is placed at his throat. Hojo's eyes are open, staring at her. He isn't afraid. He's just there.

Existing.

_Pitiful_.

"Go on," he tries again. His voice is oddly soft. Resigned. _Finally_, he seems to say. _Finally._

In that moment, she could have ended everything.

Yet she found that she couldn't.

Suddenly the monster was just a sad old man.

She makes no noise as the knife is embedded deep into his left shoulder.

-x-

Why she ran was anyone's guess. She wasn't running away. Just running.

No, she was running to gain distance. Because when she thought she was far enough away she drops to her knees and screams. Wordless, hollow screams of rage, defeat, despair. Like a beast, like a dragon, she howls and roars into the night, all of it lost on the still wilderness around her.

She had her chance. She'd given it away. She could never forgive herself now.

"Ability aside…none of you have the…_guts_ to finishes what you started." She doesn't turn around and there's a thud as the knife is thrown into the ground at her feet.

She rolls her shoulders and turns. Her voice is venom.

"I'm not here to ease your suffering you self-gratified _twit_." It was different. Perhaps she wanted him to beg for his life. Not ask her to let him die. That's not it at all.

He mutters something from the darkness. She thinks it's swearing. She can't catch it, though. Wutainese is a language she still needs to learn. She knows Soli, Cosmian, and a bit to Wutain.

And then there _was_ something she could understand.

"Miserable _failure_…" His voice became louder as he staggers forward. His shoulder is wet, she can tell in the darkness. Grim satisfaction runs through her. "Can't you even follow through on your own intentions?"

She smiles.

"I came to kill the Professor." She shook her head. "That's not you."

"So you'd leave an old man with a grievous injury instead - does that comply with your obviously _superior_ moral code? Are you _afraid,_ little girl?"

"I just wanted you to suffer as I did. I never said I had morals…" She nods. "You just assumed."

He fell to his knees. She began to count the seconds. "You're... just as misguided and worthless as the rest of them. Pity..."

She leaves him in the woods.

-x-

The sun is rising and she's sitting on the front porch when he walks up. Staggers, really. She's drinking a beer and her feet are propped up on the railing. It's the only time she's seemed comfortable around the place.

She was waiting for him.

_Hello again Mr. Cockroach._

The blood on his shoulder was dry. He staggered by her. And again, there it was. The monster she'd been looking for. It was lurking behind his eyes.

"Coward," he spat at her. She tipped her beer in his direction.

"That's what I said." A tell. Left hand taps the area just above her heart. He should know what that means.

He stares at her again for a few moments, scowl forming on his face. Finally, he begins to stagger into the house.

"It's on the computer." She tilts her head to the side, just a bit. "Your files. The code is…"

"I've had that information for a month." She takes a swig out of the bottle.

That made him blink. Actually blink.

"So what have you been doing here? Trying to work up the courage to do what you _couldn't?_"

"Trying to understand the madman who ruined my life. I get to kill everyone eventually, Professor. Might as well take my time with the one I'll get the most joy from."

He stares again, leaning on the door frame, not unlike he had the first time she'd shown up. Blinks.

"Get out of my sight."

He walks into the house and slams the door.

She smiles and finishes her beer.

-x-

She doesn't leave. Because it's in direct opposition to his wishes, she stays.

All Dragoons are stubborn. She wonders if he doesn't shoot her because of that reason.

Maybe he misses Veld.

-x-

And then one day it's over, just as sudden as it began.

He goes up to her room and she's not there. The room smells faintly of burnt cedar. The window is open. Everything is in its proper place.

There's a book on the bed, though. One of the three copies of Loveless. The cover is burnt just slightly, so the name is gone.

All the pages are burnt on the inside, except three. White paint covers all the letters, the original script covered by a neat hand.

_It's just a game_

_Maybe I won_

_Maybe you did._

_-x-_

Upon closer inspection, things were missing around the house.

One knife from the kitchen.

The picture of Sephiroth from his wallet. The picture of Gast and the team from his dresser. A picture of him and Veld.

And his wedding rings.

-x-

Veld actually drops the mug he's holding when she walks through the door. It shatters but she doesn't look at him. Instead she walks past, up the stairs, and into her room.

He goes up a minute later and finds her asleep on a pile of photographs.


	9. Forever Young

Forever Young

**A/n: **To me, heacanon wise, I believe that Elfé and Shelke would make great friends. Fact of the matter being because they both are woman who will never look their age, and Elfé was best friends with Shalua (Fun fact: Shalua Rui joined AVALANCHE to look for her sister. She left after Elfé went comatose and Fuhito took over. She's also rumored to have made Veld's prosthetic. Confirmation?).

Anyway, this one actually stars Shelke Rui, but Elfé is the ghost throughout.

* * *

><p>There is something disconcerting about looking in the mirror and never seeing anything new. Never growing old, but still knowing about Death and that it's coming. Youthful forever, or at least for a very long time.<p>

At least, this was what Shelke Rui believed, and thought about every day while she worked in the WRO labs with fellow (and not creepy at all) scientists. Reeve had finally given up on _not_ letting her work after she'd used her transparency to sneak in and convince the workers the place was haunted.

The "ghost" had mysteriously disappeared after Shellke got her job.

It was Yuffie's idea.

But she knew it wasn't luck, coincidence, or _fate_ that got her put on what was known as the "Immortals" project. At least that was it's nickname. Shelke didn't actually know what the real name was for it.

Shelke actually was the head of this project, spurred from curiosity about Vincent Valentine. And since he felt guilty was nice, he agreed to work with Shelke on it.

It only started out with Vincent Valentine. Shelke never meant to meet _her_.

—-

Shelke was happy enough with the data she'd gleaned from making Vincent do whatever it was she could possibly think of in a simulation (as long as it didn't hurt him at all), to see how much the Protomateria had changed his physical structure.

She even decided to poll people around the WRO. Asking them what they thought of Vincent and such.

She was surprised to find, after many hours, that fear of the monsters brought about by the materia was actually _second _on most people's list of fears. First place went to…his appearance.

No, not the cloak and gauntlet, but the fact that he still looked 27. And would forever.

Shelke always retaliated with "Do you fear me, since I look nine and I'm twenty?"

90% of people said yes.

And then apologized…and walked away very quickly.

She only had two outliers , since she removed _all_ the "current" AVALANCHE members' data due to bias.

And it was those two outliers that alerted her to the fact that there may have been others like Vincent Valentine.

—

Shelke found the file on accident, while scrounging through records in the WRO library, looking for information (or anything, really) on Professor Hojo's experiments.

All the file said was _Zirc_

—

"Vincent, who were you talking to a minute ago?"

"Veld Dragoon…"

"He was in my research study." Shelke decided to tell him. "He's not afraid of you."

"I wouldn't think so…" Vincent replied.

"He called you 'brat."'

"He's my old partner, Shelke. He's called me a lot of things over the years."

—-

Shelke meant to investigate Veld Dragoon, immeditaly after the meeting with Reeve and the technology department on the uses of the Deepground eye scanners.

That's why she was wearing it when she walked past the 13th Civilian Corps when they were training.

That's how she found Elfé.

—-

_Scan complete. Nonhuman detected_._ Target acquired. Report _

"What?" Shelke stopped walking. She turned to the training room, watching the volunteer soldiers practice from beyond the glass. She reached up and removed the scanner (a smaller version that just looked like eye glasses), frowning. "This thing must be malfunctioning. The only target setting we had was to hunt down Vincent Valentine." She looked around. "He's not here."

She turned to the room, put on the scanner again, and repeated the process

_Scan complete. Nonhuman detected. target…_ She removed it again and frowned.

"Attention!" Someone called as Shelke entered the room. She waved them off.

"I apologize," she said in her monotone voice. "My scanner is malfunctioning, but I waned to make sure…." She tried one more time, circling the room.

Who the scanner called out was _not _who she was expecting.

—

"Mr. Strife, who led AVALANCHE before you?"

"Barret…and Shelke you can call me Cloud."

"Cloud…who led before Barret?"

_Three point seven seconds of hesitation_.

"A…man named Fuhito Aragmaki."

"Before him?"

"Elfé."

"Elfé what?"

"Just…Elfé."

"How can she just be _Elfé_?"

"I don't _know_ Shelke, how could Weiss just be _Weiss_?"

"He wasn't just…_never mind." _Shelke didn't like talking to Cloud normally.

—-

Shelke didn't admit it, but Cloud's comparison of Elfé to Weiss could have been considered accurate.

Although Shelke didn't think about that when she finally had someone call Elfé down to the labs so she could talk with the older woman.

**Name: **Elfé  
>Occupation: Leader of AVALANCHE (Previous)<br>Ethnicity: Unknown  
>Age: Unknown<br>Family status: Unknown.

"They're all unknonwns…" Shelke muttered, leaning her head against the computer screen and sighing in frustration.

"I'm Solian-Junonian, Veld is my only remaining relative. My last name is Dragoon, and I'm 30…ish…"

_Two point six seconds of hesitation._

"And you're the one Shaula died for."

_Two…three…eight…twenty…_

—

Shelke and Elfé just stood, staring at each other. For a long time. Because the scan two weeks ago told Shelke that the woman before her was 18. Not 30. But then again, the scan of Vincent said he was 27.

"You're an immortal." And Elfé smiled at her.

"I try not to think about it."


	10. If Everything is Alright

If Everything is Alright

**A/N: **Real short, I know, but I think it speaks volumes about her.

Based off the idea that Veld left Elfé to explore the house and she found old pictures, plus her own photo album.

A quick explination. When I play/write for Elfé, I write under the impression that she really can't remember much of her life before the expiriments. Other RPers (and I) also run it that she suffers from PTSD, with certain things triggering responses (ie: her name triggering the summoning of Zirconiade). That being said, she deals with grief completely different than say...me.

I couldn't be Elfé, not in real life.

* * *

><p>She knew her father was starting to regret leaving her to her own devices. She worried him because when she was alone, she allowed herself to think. And the darkness crept up on her then, and it was like she was sleeping, dreaming, yet still awake.<p>

This time, she's sitting on the ground in the study, legs crossed, photo album open in her lap. She's staring at a few pictures. There's one of her father and mother, together. One of them at their wedding. Them kissing…There's the family picture her father has in his wallet. Her as a little girl. There's her mother and her.

She's _envious_.

That's new.

She's envious of herself. Of the life she used to have.

She flips back to the wedding picture.

_Is that love_? She's trying to learn. To be human. And it hurts.

_Love_. Someone told her she was bound to experience it. She doubts it. Yeah, it'll never happen.

She's envious. She wants a family. Children. Someone to love her and to love back.

To be human

it's not possible…

Not now.

The pictures in her lap show three people. One has his arms around two of them. The man on the far left looks like he wants to kill the man on the far right.

She's in the middle there. She's smiling. Fuhito wants to kill Shears (you did, Fu. you did). Shears is just laughing (I killed you…Fuhito may have struck out but I'm the one who killed you).

In the next, it's her and Shalua and Chelsea. They're in traditional Comsian dress. She's blushing. The other two girls are laughing.

She looks at another. It's her and Rufus Shinra. Of all people. Rufus is wearing a uniform that makes him a member of AVALANCHE.

The photo album ends up crashing into the decorative mirror on the wall. Elfe doesn't remember throwing it. She just sits there, staring at the broken pieces of her life in the shards of glass.


	11. Flight

Flight

**(possible triggers? drowning, self-harm)**

******A/N: **A thing about Elfé that I've noticed, while RPing as her, is that she seems Death Oriented. At least to me. The simple fact of the matter is that she _cannot die_ (headcannon) and will one day _kill everyone_ (not completely headcannon) and so she can't really help herself. Sometimes I think she's driven to action without actually realizing what she's doing.

I once did a vice meme and wrath was the one that fit, if that helps at all.

Anyway, this was inspired by my Veld rper's memoir about family vacations, and someone who asked my Elfé if she'd rather jump off a waterfall than face her father. So, credit to Drakonlily and her Ask-Veld blog.

* * *

><p>She had planned it so he wouldn't know.<p>

Which was silly, because he knew _everything_. So she had tried to get away with something before he found out. Which was just as nearly impossible.

Which was why she was running very fast in a straight line on a predetermined path through the forest.

She'd hoped she'd got a good enough head start.

But it probably wasn't as good as she'd liked.

There was a cliff that overlooked a roaring waterfall about a mile or so from the house. An all uphill journey, but the place was beautiful. And she'd had a slightly morbid curiosity of late.

Anticipation made her run faster.

She heard him yelling behind her as she broke out onto the cliff. The sun glinting off of the water almost blinded her. The roar of the falls drowned out most sound, including his worried shouts. She smiled as she took a step towards the ledge.

"Felicia! Stop right there, young lady!"

The smile drops away quickly. _He only calls you that when he's pissed _is the first thought that flies through her head. _Damn the old man can run_ is the second. Almost to mock him, she takes another step.

"_Felicia_!" She stops with a scowl and turns to face him. His eyes hold a mixture of anger and worry. "Get back over here!"

He's trying to yell over the falls. He forgets how good her hearing is.

_Sometimes, I think he forgets you're not a little girl anymore_.

She peers at him for a moment and starts to turn around to face the falls again. He follows her.

That won't do.

Without so much of a warning, she draws her sword and puts it at his nose. He starts, then his eyes narrow.

"Felicia-"

"_Elfé,_" she corrects.

"Elfé, get your sword out of my face," Veld stares at her, pulling that "I'm your father stop messing around" look. She doesn't move the blade, but takes a step back.

Three more steps and it's over the edge.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he questions. Always questioning.

"Jump," she points, with her free hand, at the falls. "I'm going to jump."

Oh, she knows what he's thinking the moment his eyes widen. He thinks she wants to die.

Sometimes, yes.

But not now. Now she's just curious.

He makes a movement towards her again and she takes another two steps back. One more step and it's over the edge.

"Elfé don't do this!"

She smiles and takes that last step, gracefully dropping off the ledge while still facing him. She hears his scream of her name as the wind rushes past her ears.

She feels guilty, making him worry like this.

But she wants to know how it feels to fly.

Envy and curiosity make her do stupid things.

Once upon a time, she would have been able to feel Zirconiade's wings pulse beneath her skin. The adrenaline from the fall and excitement of the approaching ground had always dulled the pain of transformation.

She'd never told anyone that she'd flown for fun. Even after she knew Zirconiade was killing her.

But the pulse wasn't there. She was just falling. No wings. No flight. Nothing.

She hits the water with a loud splash, but does nothing to slow her descent to the bottom. She watches bubbles rise around her, sees the sky get further and further away.

Her mind is telling her to swim for the surface, but she doesn't want to. So she just lets herself sink. She sees her katana sinking nearby, and grabs for it, clutching it close. She closes her eyes, smiling.

It's peaceful. Even as her lungs start to burn. She doesn't swim up.

A crash breaks her peace. Something cold grabs her and suddenly it's bright again, and her lungs aren't burning.

Her eyes open slightly and she's not surprised to see him pulling them both along towards the shore.

"You got your suit wet," she mutters, her voice faint from lack of oxygen. He doesn't find her very funny. "You didn't have to jump after me." He shakes his head. "I wanted to fly."

He stops swimming and looks at her. Like he doesn't believe it or maybe he does. Either way, he looks terrified. _I'm not going anywhere_, she wants to say. But she doesn't.

He moves again, and this time he's hugging her. He's still keeping them afloat. His arm is cold.

She hesitates…then hugs him back.

"Just…remember I love you," he whispers. She nods. Because she knows. She doesn't show it well, but she knows.

Back on shore, they lie side by side, not saying anything. Both are breathing hard.

Finally she dares say something.

"Strawberry."

He moves his head to look at her. "What?" He doesn't think he's heard her right.

"I want to go back."

"Where?" He's trying. Trying to understand her thoughts.

"To the time we had funerals for jellyfish."

He swore the water on his face was from the waterfall. She didn't correct him, though. She swore the same thing about her own tears.

—


	12. Remember that I came back for you

"Remember I that I came back for You."

**a/n** So I was prompted, via my RP asks, to explain a possible relationship between Elfé and Sephiroth. And I did. But this was something else enterily.

There are fancanons that say Elfe was Hojo's attempt at creating a "perfect mate" for Sephiroth. She was, in fact, equal to him in strength and intellegence, and really would have been the ideal wife for him, except for a few things.

She got away.  
>She's stubborn.<p>

But this was my attempt to delve into the possible relationship between the two.

* * *

><p><em>Turn your head to the left. Good. Now to the right. Good girl. Raise your left hand. Can't you raise it? Try your right. Can't raise it? Good…good…Wiggle your toes. Do you know you still have toes? Can you feel that? Do you realize I'm touching your foot right now? No? That's good. <em>

I want to go home.

_You can't_.

I want my mommy.

_She's not here_.

I want papa.

_He's not here._

Take me to them.

_I can't_.

Why not?

_You can't go back._

Why not?

_You just can't, girl_.

Why? Why can't I? I want my mom. I want papa. I want my Rinny. I want to go home. I want to move. I want to open my eyes. I want to-

—-

"Hey."

The girl on the lab table didn't move at the sound. It'd been to long since she'd moved. The orderlies were running around, no one saw the boy walk in and put his hand on her arm.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

The girl on the lab table opened her eyes slowly. They were brown for a second. Then yellow. Then purple. Then brown. The boy didn't even flinch.

"Can you hear me?" he asked again. The girl turned and looked at him. "You're very pretty," he whispered. The girl looked away. "No!" The boy tilted her head back towards him. "You are!"

The girl shook her head and the boy sighed. He stepped away from the table.

"You can't talk, can you?" The girl didn't move. She blinked at him. "You can, but…"

"Hu..rts…" she whispered.

"From screaming?"

The girl nodded.

"I heard you."

"Sor…"

"No. That's why I came. Girls shouldn't scream, 'specially not pretty ones."

"I…"

"Rest your voice," the boy said. "And…try not to scream anymore. They seem to like it better if you scream." He looked at the table the girl was strapped to. "They're scared of you, I think. That's why you're all locked up." She shook her head. "I know, you're so tiny. I don't know why they're so scared." The girl blinked. "Don't worry!" He smiled, and clasped her shackled hand in his own. "I'm not scared."

She smiled and wiggled her fingers. His smile grew.

"SEPHIROTH!" The smile died and the silver-haired boy whipped around, staring into the eyes of _that man_ and the guards behind him.

"I'll be back, don't worry," he whispered suddenly, as the guards grabbed him. "Don't worry!"

The girl on the lab table didn't move.

—-

"My name's Sephiroth. Do you remember me?"

"Se…Se.."

"It's too hard to say, isn't it?" the boy was older. His eyes darker, his smile a bit more forced. The girl on the table was paler, her hair longer. Quieter. She never screamed anymore.

"Set."

"Is that easier?" When she nods, he smiles with that odd smile and pushes some hair out of her eyes. "What about you? What's _your_ name?" She blinks at him. "Do…you not know?"

"Fe…fel….fel…" she struggles to answer.

"Fel?"

She made a shrug.

"Fel and Set. I like it."

—-

He visits too often. They always come and drag him away. Every time he comes, she smiles. Every time he's gone, it's like working on a cadaver.

Then, one day, they show her the reflection in the mirror. The blood on the floor isn't hers.

He's standing in the doorway. He's holding her back and she's struggling against him. It's the first time she's stood in years.

And then they grab her away and separate the two. She's strapped down again. He's taken away.

Then he doesn't come back for a long time.

—-

"Look at _you_."

Her eyes pop open and the look is feral. They are more yellow than brown. Her breath is slow, almost dead. A glare goes his way.

"Fel, I tried. I really did." He's too tall now, she can't look into his eyes anymore. His hair is long. He's too thin.

"Set." Her eyes are brown again. She frowns. No tears fall. She doesn't think they can anymore.

"I'm going away, Fel." Her eyes lock on him. Her body is too weak to do anything else. They keep her so heavily sedated now. "This is goodbye."

"Wha…"

"I've been accepted into SOLDIER. I won't be coming back."

She looks at him. Her eyes scream in the pain she no longer shows. He takes a step forward and she snarls at him. _Leave then! _she dares him. But he only smiles. Takes another step. Takes her head between his two hands and kisses her on the forehead.

"That's what they think, at least," he whispers into her hair. It's long, unkempt. They didn't think she'd last this long. They're having trouble talking care of her now.

Her eyes widen.

"I'm coming back to get you, Fel," he whispers. "They can't hold me back anymore." He looks her in the eyes. "Wait for me."

—-

Nothing ever goes as planned. Not for them. And when he finally comes back the girl on the table is a woman who is asleep. They have to keep her asleep, or else she'll kill them all and run.

He stands at her side, looking at the fragile being lying before him. His eyes have lost their compassion. Emotionless, they look at her, judging.

She doesn't open her eyes. A frown settles on his pale face, and he turns to the monitor. The only indication that she is still alive.

"I told you to wait," his voice is deeper now. Almost too confident. He blinks and continues, as if she had responded. "Look at you. I'm…Fel, why did you wait….you could have left…"

But that's a lie. He remembers hearing her screams. Her questions. _Where are my parents. I want to go home. Where am I. What are you._ The voice rings in his head and he pushes it away.

"I said I'd come back for you." He said, no longer looking at her. He looks at the wall. Listens for heartbeats. Sounds. This wing is deserted. He looks down at the girl. She's always just a girl to him. Fel. Fel the girl on the table. The girl who smiles even though they killed her. "You don't remember me. They took everything from you, but…"

_The girl who smiles_.

"I came back, Fel." He takes those two steps forward again, he's at her side like before. He strokes her chin with a gloved hand. "It's time to run, Fel."

—

No one knows how it happened. The security tapes revealed nothing. But somehow, the main experiment of the Zirconaide Project got loose.

Somehow, one of her shackles had been cut free, and the door was left open. She'd been turned completely off of life support, and the anesthesia had been blocked.

Somehow, she'd gotten out.

—

"Elfé! Get out of there! The President called in the General! We lost our chance! Retreat!" The radio in her ear was screaming at her. But the AVALANCHE commander wasn't about to give up her chance because some_SOLDIER_ hotshot was called in. She charged the stage, her katana ready to kill the ultimate source of all her problems.

The sound of steel hitting steel almost caught her off-guard, but her reaction was quick retaliation.

The world was silent as the two unstoppable forces met each other's blows with too-practiced ease. Neither warrior made a mistake and neither left an opening.

And then green met brown and everything changed.

The General dropped to one knee, startled. The Commander stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock.

_The girl who smiled._

_The boy who came back._

In the end, it was Elfé who broke the stare. She had to. The guards swarmed in for her and she ran.

—

_Bury the dead. Burn the world. _

"I tried to come back for you," she said to the sky one day. "But you were too far gone."


	13. A Collection of Little Tales

The collection of little tales:

**A/N: **So I was given a list of names and told to write a collection of ficts about Elfé and how she'd interact/know/think of/meet etc these people. So here's a collection of these tales.

Quick summery:

_Genisis: _The guys are playing a guessing game and Elfé joins in.

_Vincent Valentine: _What connects them is more than Veld

_Reeve Tuesti: _He can't possibly think this is enough security for the WRO (also, where one of my most famous lines in RP comes from xD)

_Cait Sith: _So a robot cat and a terrorist are in an elevator...

_Lightening Farron: _Alright, this may seem a bit out of the water (hey isn't she from FFXIII?). But I'm running the headcannon that FFXIII is FFVII's future...you'll see.

NOTE: This is the last of the pre-done prompts I have. I'm writing more, but may be filling my other FanFictions (holy crap I haven't updated in two years ) before I write more for Elfé. Sorry! If you have any prompts for Elfé (or any of my characters), throw me a message.

* * *

><p><em>-x-x-<em>

_Drunk Guessing (Genesis)_

"Oh yeah, defiantly a man!"

"Hey, you're looking at the registry, not at the picture! That's cheating! Take a shot!"

"What in Minvera's name is going on in here?" Elfé threw open the door to what was supposed to be a debriefing room and stared at the four men sitting on folding chairs in front of a projector screen.

"Shears started it!" accused one man, William, falling out of his chair in fright. Elfé tried not to laugh. She hadn't even raised her voice. She kept her face a mask in the blue light.

"Why do you have the SOLDIER and ShinRa personal registry open?" she questioned. Shears stood up and saluted.

"Bit of fun, Elf. Come on, take a seat. You're always so serious anyway," he gestured to an empty seat next to him she hadn't noticed before. She crossed her arms, unimpressed.

"We're..uh…playin' a drinkin' game, Ma'am," one man spoke up. Elfé turned her eyes to him. Jemmison, she recalls his name being.

"With the Registry?"

"Yeah!" Shears cuts in. "Trying to guess the gender. Guess wrong and you take a shot. Timmens is terrible at it. He's wasted." Elfé looked towards Timmens, the fourth man. He was slumped in his seat, asleep.

"You mean that we've hacked into the Shinra database, got a complete listing of the personal and all of their history and you've all not told me and instead decided to make a drinking game of it?"

"Well…when you put it that way…" Shears looked at his feet. He was about to say something when Timmens jumped awake.

"For queen and country!" he shouted, saluting Elfé with as much dignity as a drunk man could before toppling over. She sighed and stepped over him.

"You're lucky we're on lockout right now and _can't_ do anything. This information is useless without the means to do anything with it…" she sat down. "Fine, I'll play."

"Really?" William looked like he'd shit himself.

"Ah, come off it Will! The Commander can be fun when she ain't worryin' about keeping us all alive!" Jemmison said, slapping Elfé on the back. She gave him a tired smile.

"Okay, next one!" Shears clicked the projector and the picture flicked.

"That's General Sephiroth," Elfé muttered. "Male."

"You sure?" Will asked, and Jemison and Shears snicked.

"Yes. Shots for all you, then," she waved them off. Will genuinely looked shocked when he realized she wasn't lying. _How much have they had to drink already?_

The picture flicked again.

"Female." "Female." "Male."

"Scarlet's a female, Jemmison."

"With that laugh?" And Jemmison took a shot.

"Male. " "Ideal Father Figure." "Male."

"Angeal Hewey…yeah that one was obvious. What was that Commander?" Will asked, "Ideal what?"

"Nothing."

"Next one!…Uh…Male right?" Shears cocked his head to the left.

"He better be. He's dating Aerith. Zack Fair.." Elfé crossed her arms. Shears took a shot for doubting. Will rolled his eyes.

The screen flicked again and they all cocked their heads to the side.

"Ah hell!" Will muttered.

"Female," Elfé said confidently. The men all stared at her.

"Uh…Commander…?" Jemmison handed her the bottle, a bit embarrassed She looked at him, frowning.

"She's wearing _heels_, Jem! And…looks prettier than me, at least.." she insisted. Shears started laughing, even as Jemmison pressed the bottle into her hand. "What? That _is_ a woman right?"

"1st Rank SOLDIER… Genesis Rhapsodous…" Will read, snickering. "Male."

"Shiva's Tits," she muttered, and took a swig of the bottle.

* * *

><p><em>-x-x-<em>

_The Melody (Vincent Valentine)_

There's a picture on the mantel. Of two men in black suits. Elfé stared at it every day of the Crisis. Because she couldn't fight. She'd stared at the two people in the black suits and looked at them smiling. The cats that caught the canary.

"Who's that?" she'd asked Veld, over dinner. He'd cooked. She'd put the picture on his plate, and pointed to the younger man standing next to him.

"That's…my old partner…"

"What's his name?"

"….Vincent Valentine."

—-

She was running through a dead forest, following a song that no human could hear but she could. She could hear it because she was hardly human, even after…

The song grew louder and suddenly she's staring down three barrels of a shotgun pistol.

Well, she was in the right place.

"Don't shoot!" she whispered, no fear in her voice. Her hands went up in surrender. Her katana dead at her side. Red eyes flecked with gold glared at her. "Vincent Valentine, I came to find you." She stared him dead in the eye, not afraid.

"Who are you?" he whispered, voice more threatening than the cocking of the gun was to her ears.

"My name is Elfé…_Felicia_ Dragoon. I…I'm Veld's _daughter_." The gun wavered, then locked onto her forehead. "1978! You both stood out in front of Shinra Manufacturing and let the press take a picture of you! I have the picture! The original copy. Veld let me put it on the mantel!"

So much for no fear.

The gun falls away and he's peering at her. Elfé wonders how old she is in his mind. She doesn't know if she ever met him before. Veld won't talk.

"_Felicia_?" He frowns, although she can't see it, and gestures to the fire. She lowers her hands and takes a seat. He sits opposite of her and the silence sets in.

She doesn't know what to say to him. He obviously didn't know what to say to her. She was staring at the fire. He at the sky. Never at each other. So it was silent until..

"Do you hear the singing?" she muttered. She could feel his eyes on her, questioning. "The singing. The war melody. Do you hear it?"

Nothing. And then…

"Yes…but…_how_…?" Elfé frowned. Tried not to laugh but _frowned_ all the same. She slipped off her glove and held it up to the firelight. The beast was gone, the memory was not.

"We have more in common than just Veld, it seems." And then she smiled.

* * *

><p><em>-x-x-<em>

_Through the Window (Reeve Tuesti)_

_Oh, I'm going to be in so much trouble_…Elfé crossed her legs, straightened up, and sat like a polite lady, despite the fact she'd just broken into the office of the most important man in the world.

At least at this very moment.

_For the most important man, he needs to tighten his security_, she mused, sitting patiently in the dark. She heard voices. It shouldn't be long now.

"Yes yes, as soon as I look over the blueprints for the highway, fix the roads, and approve the infrastructure of the buildings closest to Midgar, I will go over your proposal. Give me three hours, tops…Yes yes, goodbye…" Footsteps departing…the handle on the door turned…the light flicked on.

She stood up and turned around, her katana at rest.

"Reeve Tuesti," she stated, her head titled in respect. The blue-clad man stared at her for a moment. She could see the cogs working in his head.

"How'd you get in, exactly?" he asked. Not the question she was expecting._Who are you_ was on the top of her list. or _What do you want_. Or _I'm calling the security_. Instead, it was that…

"The window," she answered, calmly. She flicked her head towards the very window he'd left open.

"We're on the 15th story!"

"I've scaled bigger buildings, Mr. Tuesti." Elfé smirked. Something clicked in his head and she saw the light bulb go off.

"Oh dear Gaia. You're a _Dragoon_."

* * *

><p><em>-x-x-<em>

_The Cait and the Canary (Cait Sith)_

""Ifit's balls! Where the _hell_ is Fuhito?" Elfé muttered under her breath, dodging another wave of infantrymen and running down the corridor. Sure, she'd been confident when they'd started the infultration of the Shinra building, but now she didn't seem so sure. Probably because Shears was detained on the lower levels and Fuhito was _nowhere_ to be seen.

She slid into an empty elevator and breathed a shallow sigh of relief. Relief until she got to the next floor. _Keep fighting your way up, hun…_

"Ya lost, missy?" Elfé jumped and looked down. Not completely empty, it seemed. She was accompanied…by a talking cat…

"No," Elfé answered politely and then turned to stare at the instrument panel.

"You be the missy causin' all the mess, then?" the cat asked.

"Maybe…"

"Ah…well…shouldn't ya be goin' down?"

"President's this way." Elfé pointed up.

"Pres's gone." She pulled the fire-alarm and looked down at the cat. "Yeh, Missy. He be flown out tha moment ya'll arrived."

"Shiva's tits!" she cursed and punched the wall. "Should have guessed…" Her eyes strayed back to the crown-and-cape-wearing cat next to her. "And you are…?"

"Cait Sith, lassie," the cat bowed.

"Oh. Reeve Tuesti's spy cat…" Elfé looked at the roof of the elevator. "Great. Nice met, then." She jumped up and suspended herself from the ceiling and pulled out a screwdriver from her bag.

"Yessiree! And yourself?" Elfé kicked out the ceiling panel and smiled back at down at the cat.

"Someone left forgotten. Bye bye, _Ketto Shi._"

* * *

><p><em>-x-x-<em>

_The Two Soldiers (Lightening Farron)_

"Ma'am, the area's all secure. However there is a woman who refuses to leave."

"Understood." Lightning saluted the soldier and then turned her attention to the woman in question. Covered by a cloak, she couldn't get a complete identification. "Ma'am, this is a secured area. You must leave."

The woman said nothing.

"Ma'am, by order of the Guardian Corps, you must obey or be arrested," Lightening said, a bit more forcefully.

"Soldiers don't scare me." Lightening wasn't startled, but she would have admitted, had she been asked, that the voice coming from the supposedly frail, old woman was surprisingly…strong. A hand—a bandaged hand, covered by a glove—appeared from under the cloak and the woman pushed herself up from the ground. Lightening took a step back, on hand on her weapon.

She may have not been startled before, but she was now. The reading had said that the woman before her should have at least been 90 years old (actually, she thinks the computer was messing up because it said something like 900 but that was impossible). However, the woman standing before Lightning Farron was the same age as her…if not _younger_.

"Ma'am, this is a restricted area," Lightening repeated. "You need to come with…"

"I've been sitting here awhile. What changed?" When Lightning didn't say anything, the woman made a motion to sit back down. Lightning caught her arm.

"Come on!" She stated, but the woman jerked her arm away.

"I can't, I'm meeting someone here." The woman sat down again. "He promised."

Lightening was getting frustrated, so she backed off and turned to a few of her soldiers. "Call in back up. We're going to have to forcibly remove her, I think."

"Forcibly remove? She's just a harmless old lady," protested one. Lightening gestured back to the covered woman.

"Harmless woman armed with a katana and a tactical rifle." The soldiers started and then did as they were told. Lightning returned to the woman.

"I've called to have you forcibly removed. This is your last chance."

"I remember a time when none of this was here," the woman replied. "That's the last time we met. I promised I'd meet him here."

"Who are you waiting for? How long have you been waiting for him? How old_are_ you?"

The woman didn't reply right away. Lightning bent down and knelt at her level. Something was off. The woman lifted her head again and stared directly at Lightning.

Her eyes. They were so…old.

"You know, when Hojo told me I was going to live forever, I didn't believe it." The woman shifted, and sighed. "That was centuries ago."

"What…?"

"My name is Elfé…I'm a terrorist. You better call more backup…"

"What?"

Elfé smiled at the Soldier in front of her. "You heard me. You better call for more back up…" A shot was heard to Lightning's left, and shouts. "Vincent just showed up."


	14. Shiny Happy People

Shiny Happy People

(Prompt: Two Less Grumpy People in the World. **TRIGGER WARNINGS: SUICIDE TALK, DEPRESSION, SWEARING**

**A/N** Evander isn't mine. He belongs to Drake and the System, my Zeng Rpers. If you're interested in his story, go read Pathos by Ten-tackles (them) on dA. And then Prolegomenon. You won't regret it, _TRUST ME. _

Thanks, guys, for letting me borrow and potentially butcher the character.

Also, to me, Reno's surname in my headcanon _**isn't**_ Sinclair.

I've also come to terms with the fact that I can't actually write anything happy for her. I try very very hard, but she always seems so sad. Sorry Elfé, dearest.

This was hard to write. It was very sad. I think the only thing harder was the fiction I wrote for a role play (I probably won't post it here), where she went through the 5 stages of grief...anyway...

Legend is a real Turk. He's an ass in BC.

Credits go to Drake, Drakonlily, Jar0fStars and Nashi, for borrowed headcanon and ideas.

**TRIGGER WARNINGS: SUICIDE TALK, DEPRESSION, SWEARING**)

* * *

><p>It was luck. Or Fate. Or some sort of strange design, that he walked past the only hospital in Costa the day they were brought in. Well, he did work there, as a volunteer. But he had the day off. He was only going for a walk when the truck pulled up and the Shinra Grunts jumped out, followed by one long-haired Turk. The hospital staff ran out to meet them and he just stood there with his mouth open.<p>

He was spotted by one of the nursing staff and flagged over. They needed help. The Turk was giving directions. He kept his head down. One of the two people left in the truck was loaded into his arms. A girl, really (though political correctness said woman). The front of her shirt was bloodstained. She looked like she was sleeping. The man holding her knew she was too pale to be. She was dying.

His head lifted, slightly, to look at the other person they unloaded from the truck. A man, with a matching bloodstain and a prosthetic arm.

"What…what happened?" The man ventured out, hoping still that the Turk didn't recognize him. Or, if he did, wouldn't say anything.

Tseng of the Turks stared at him steadily and said "I shot them."

-x-x-

Tseng had left shortly after the medical staff took over. The man understood this. Such was the life of a Turk.

Such had been his old life as well. Pity (glory!) that Tseng hadn't recognized him, but he knew the boy (he'd always just be a boy) had blinders on. After all, he'd just shot-to-kill his mentor. You don't do that every day.

-x-x-

He made his perch next to the girl's _(that's the bloody leader of AVALANCHE…)_ bedside. For something that Shinra had painted to be such a monster, she really seemed like an unassuming little girl. She was connected to wires and tubes and machines and tied down so she couldn't thrash in her sleep. He didn't think she would. He didn't think she'd do much of anything anymore. Kind of sad.

He rocked his chair back and looked through the tinted glass into the next room. Veld. Veld was there. The man shook his head. He had no idea why someone thought it was smart to put the (ex?)Director of Turk and the (ex?)Leader of AVALANCHE next to each other in a hospital. But he wasn't supposed to know who either of these people were so he kept his mouth shut.

His Turks, the ones who were…dead? Missing? What had Veld said for most of them? His Turks wouldn't have believed it. Evander Sinclair, being silent.

Eh, such was the way of time.

-x-x-

The day Veld woke up, another man showed up. He had shock orange hair like Evander, but they couldn't be more unalike. The man strode in and got scolded for smoking a cigar _inside_ a hospital. After much argument, the man finally did put out the cigar, and then sat himself next to Evander. He adjusted his sunglasses, as it seemed to be too bright inside the building.

"Eva."

"Legend." A wolfish smile was shot in Evander's direction before his covered gaze raked over the girl sleeping before them.

"She looks like shit." A moment passed as Legend seemed to be thinking over his evaluation. "Pretty little thing, but she looks like shit."

"Tseng shot 'er." _And who knows what else is wrong_. That part was left unvoiced. Evander felt like he was reporting the obvious. He tone was quiet. Very un- "Eva- like".

Legend made some nonverbal response that sounded like an _Hm_. He stood up and walked into the other room, standing by Veld's beside for a few long moments.

"Tseng shoot him too?" Eva nodded. "He always _was_ a problem child." Legend obviously expected a laugh. Eva didn't give him one. Legend frowned and sat back down. "We know why?"

"No."

"Well, you're helpful…" Legend sighed, and pulled out his phone. "I wonder if I can get into the comm, find out what's going on." Eva said nothing. He'd been sitting by this girl's beside for a month. Did Legend really think he hadn't _tried_ that already?

They sat in silence, Eva watching the girl breathe and Legend playing with his glasses. The sun rose in the sky and began to set before anything more happened.

Next door, they heard movement. Watched as a nurse appeared like lightening. They both stood, mechanically, and waited for her to leave before entering.

_He looks so old._ It was the first line in Evander's mind, but he didn't say it. Turk training and all, kept him quiet.

Veld seemed to take a lot of time to look over them both. He didn't look happy to see Legend. Legend, in turn, didn't seem too pleased to see Veld. His eyes drifted over to Eva and widened slightly. He held up his hand—the real one, the one that hadn't been taken—and Eva knew what to do. He walked over to hid Director's side and let him clasp his hands.

"Eva." He shook his head. "You were dead." And Eva smiled.

"Eh, I just faked it. Like a good Turk. 'Was tired, Veld." He sighed. "Really tired." And Veld just nodded his head.

"But…you were dead…" And something seemed to register in Veld's tired brain , and he tried to pull himself up, using his arm for leverage. "Felicia!"

"Wha?" Both Legend and Eva were startled by his sudden outburst.

"Felicia! Is she alright?" His grip on Eva's arm now was almost painful. Eva carefully pried himself away, confused. "She's hurt, Eva. Isn't she?"

"Veld, Felicia died years ago," Legend stated, his eyebrow raised skeptically. Eva stepped back and then looked through the tinted glass to the next room over. The girl in the bed. The girl leader of AVALANCHE. _I shot them_.

Without a word he walked from the room and sat back at his perch.

-x-x-

Legend gets some sort of complete tale from Veld but Eva knows his place. He doesn't much care what got Veld and Veld's (not so) little girl here. All he knows is that they _are_ here, and now Eva's gonna do his damnedest to make sure she's gonna open her eyes.

What happens after, he doesn't know. He's not the type to plan things out. That was his partner's job. He's dead now. They all are, really.

-x-x-

She opens her eyes in the middle of the night. He's half asleep. She opens her eyes and the first thing out of her mouth is the most heart wrenching scream he's ever heard. It scares him shitless. He's got to be pried off the ceiling while two nurses and a few doctors run in and scramble around for a bit.

He realizes that she has no idea she'd screamed. She doesn't seem to be able to understand what the doctors are doing, either. He watches her eyes. Her level glare to everyone around her even as consciousness is slowly regained.

"Stop." It takes her too long to get the word out in a language they all understand. The first time she says something, it's one or two words of babble. Cosmian if Eva was to guess. He'd have to ask later. "Stop!"

The power in her weak voice sent everyone in the room away from her. The ring now, two nurses, three doctors, and poor Eva, the awkward no-longer Turk in the corner. She was breathing hard, because there was no doubt she was in pain.

Her lips struggle to form words. Eva wants to grab her water. Instead, she looks at them and blinks.

"The drums are gone." She states with utmost clarity.

There is shuffling behind them and Eva looks behind. Veld, supported by Legend, is at the door. And he's staring right at his (not so) little girl, as she blinks.

Her eyes lock on him. Eva moves before she does, and it's lucky for everyone in the room.

"Let me go!" She has the most powerful voice he's ever heard, even over Veld. And she's so soft spoken too. "This is your fault!" The malice in her tone stabs daggers into Veld. "This is your fault!" she screams, and Eva realizes that she's far stronger than him. The nurses rush to help him. The doctors are working to sedate her.

Eva doesn't know what's worse: watching Elfé struggle until the sedatives took her down and she lay limp in his hands or the look on Veld's face as they drug him from the room.

-x-x-

She was shot in the upper shoulder. Same as Veld. The two of them had been shot over their hearts. Low enough to look fatal, high enough not to be. Veld's healing nicely, but he's a patient man.

Elfé won't sit still. She keeps ripping her wound wide open trying to attack Veld each time he enters the room. And, as an added bonus, she's wracked with malnutrition and a score of other problems the Docs won't talk about when Eva's in the room.

The great leader of AVALANCHE is always hovering on the brink of death. And she won't talk about it to anyone.

-x-x-

"Turk." Eva looks up from the book he's reading, surprised to be directly addressed. Deep auburn eyes stare at him, cold fire burning through him and freezing him at the same time.

"Eh, half right there Missy." Missy. That was informal enough. _Let's be friends_. "I ain't a Turk anymore."

There it is. Damnit all, Veld and his little angel have the same glare.

"Liar." How does she convey so much hate in so little words? The whole time he's sat by her bedside, she's said…maybe twenty words total.

"I blew myself up, Missy." He knows her name. He's just not sure which to call her. Either way he's gonna offend someone. "I'm a dead man."

"You never stop being a Turk." And he blinks. Because _hey! She said more than one word_. But no, because she just said Turk doctrine. His eyes steel, just moment. For one brief moment, something cold and calculating stares her down. And she meets his glare, level.

She's not afraid of the harbingers of death. The Devils in the Blue Suits. If she doesn't fear the personification of destruction and chaos, than she doesn't fear anything.

Or Eva is being conceited at the moment.

Something flicks in her eyes, and she starts to laugh. "Burn all the monsters," she suddenly says, lurching for him. He falls back, reaching for a gun that isn't there. He's on the ground, staring at her. And she's giving him a grin that is almost insane. "Burn with me."

-x-x-

It's been about a month and a half and Eva's thinking of himself as a strange form of fungus. Like, hospital-beside fungus. Won't leave ever because he's got nothing else to do but to be there. Legend's makin' fun of him. _Got yourself a crush?_ Eva doesn't give him an answer.

Veld's getting better. Stubborn old man. Just like his stubborn little girl who is starting to finally get better.

She's staring at the ceiling today.

"Evander." He looks up from counting the floor tiles. "Where are my men?"

That…was nothing like he was expecting. She had men? Like…a husband? Boyfriend? Compatriots? What?

She's giving him that glare again.

"I'll find out. Can I have names?" She blinks. _How do you not know? _Her eyes ask. "Missy, I ain't a Turk anymore. I don't know shit about the world."

"Fuhito Aramaki. Shears al'Corro." There's something new in her voice. Eva's up on his feet and out into the hall. He's going to go find them because she actually sounded happy in that moment.

Happiness that, he knew, was laced with heartsick worry.

_Only two bodies here…_

-x-x-

It takes him too long to bring the information back. And he can't find it on the Turk database because all the files are (purposefully?) corrupted. In the end, Veld is the one who tells him.

But he doesn't believe him so he copies the corrupted files and painstakingly restores them. And the news is there in black and blood. He carries the files to her side.

He hesitates. Maybe she shouldn't read the report.

The part of him he thought was dead, the humanity, the part that would tell her _they're okay, sweety, Waiting for you. Get better, we're breakin' out._

He sets the files on her knee. She picks them up without a word.

Eva thinks he can do it. He can stay there. When she breaks down, he'll hold her or something. He thinks he can do it.

She flips the first page and he backs out of the room. The paper crumples in her hands. He should call the nurses. Call Veld. Call someone.

Instead he watches as tears roll from her eyes. She doesn't seem to notice. She's just staring at the word _deceased._

-x-x-

The next day she attacks a nurse to try to get a syringe. Fills it with air and inserts it into the IV attached to her bloodstream.

They stop her just in time.

-x-x-

This is the part that Eva was worried about. Physically, she's mostly there. Healed, that is. They've removed the IVs and she's allowed to get up and walk around, and besides the new diet, she's back to normal.

Emotionally, he's sure she's dead.

He knows it when he sees it. The moment even the greatest soldiers give up. The light's gone from her eyes. She's got nothing to fight for anymore.

Frail would never be a word Eva had never thought he would use to describe her, but that was the word that came to mind when it came time to move her.

The hospital thought she and Veld were ready to go. They were moving to a different ward, the one for the people on the way out. Eva thought everyone here was blind. Elfé wasn't ready to go anywhere. But he was the volunteer, what did _he_ actually know?

So into the new ward they go, and the docs make the mistake of putting Elfé and Veld in the same room. Eva takes up his post by Elfé's bed. Legend sits next to Veld's.

Eva wondered why _he_ was still here, anyway.

-x-x-

"Eva." Oh, there was that tone. He hadn't heard it in a damn long time. Took him back, _way_ back, to the time when hearing your name in _that_ tone meant you done messed up, and Veld was about to light into you.

He didn't much care now though, and he was sure it showed on his face when he looked over to Veld's side of the room. Elfé was sleeping. That's about all she did nowadays.

"Yeah Chief?" Force of habit, honest. Legend was snickering.

"Why'd you show her?" Veld was sitting up, silver hand atop flesh one. He looked incredibly calm. His eyes were ancient. _You're all gone and dead too aren't ya?_

"I wasn't going to lie, if that's what you mean."

"Never stopped you before," Legend interrupted, grinning.

"Piss off!"

"Boys." Both Eva and Legend stop in their glaring and look over to Veld. He's just shaking his head like the disappointed parent he is. He looks at Legend and the man falls silent, glaring back at his old superior. Old habits die hard. To Eva, "You shouldn't have told her."

"They're her _friends_, Veld. She deserved to know."

"Yes, but not now. Not at this moment. It's detrimental to her health." For whatever reason, that made Eva livid.

"This whole mess is 'detrimental' to her health! It started out by bein' shot by your little protégé!" Veld winces, visibly, and the words _What have you done_ ring in both men's ears. Eva's fighting to keep his voice down. "Chief, she already hates ya. I was trying to give her a reason ta give you a chance."

"It wasn't your place!"

"Shut up, old man." Elfé's words get their attention, and each man gets a scathing glare before she turns her back to them all and covers her head with a pillow.

They sit in silence before Legend can't take it anymore. "What are we, five?" he mutters. Eva rubs his forehead and Veld just glares at him, but Elfé once again wins for best comment.

"No, Idiot Turk, I'm eight."

-x-x-

He finally can't take it anymore. She's letting herself die and for whatever reason, he can't it happen.

Veld's out in the examination room. They're gonna release the pair tomorrow. Legend's out smoking. So it just leaves Elfé and Eva in the room. Without much thought, he stands up, walks from the room, and finds a wheelchair. He comes back in and Elfé's staring at him like he's mad. Maybe he is.

He doesn't say anything, just picks her up and plops her in the wheel chair. He thinks she squeaks in surprise, but he could be imagining things. She tries to get out but he drops a bag into her lap and that startles her enough to get them moving.

He's lucky the nurses helped her get dressed already, because that would have snagged this plan considerably.

Out of the hospital, he ditches the chair in an alley. Slings the bag over his shoulder and picks her up. It's been years since he was in shape. She weights nothing, still.

He's surprised when she doesn't fight him. She crosses her arms and stares straight ahead.

She is stone.

He takes them to the beach. It's deserted, where he goes. Because he knows the best places that no one looks.

He sets her on the sand. She looks out to sea. Not at him. Never at him. He sits behind her, perpendicular, so she's leaning on his shoulder.

"Why here?" She breaks the silence after he gets comfortable. For a while, there's nothing but the sound of the waves. She never once looks back to him. Her arms are wrapped around her legs. She's so small.

"Veld used ta bring Felicia out here," he stated. "Her 'n Laura. Thought you'd want to see it. Maybe help you remember somethin'."

"Fitting place to die, then." Eva found himself staring at the back of her head. Eyes wide. Confused. "Don't miss. Tseng's a terrible shot." She does look at him now. "Do better."

It hits Eva like a brick. She thinks he's _her_ death.

"I guess…that's all Turks are good for, eh?" He's surprised how offended it sounds in the end.

"Yes." She's back to staring at the ocean. "When comparing monsters, however…" she picks her words carefully. "The more monstrous…deserve to die."

"And that's you."

"Yes."

"Well, that's where you're wr—"

"I'm not Felicia, Evander." That stops him again.

"Eh, maybe not…" he scratches at the back of his head. Orange mixed with grey. He's not that old. "But you sound just like the Chief."

"That man is nothing to me."

"Well…Veld didn't send me ta kill you or anything, Missy."

"Then why are we here?"

"I thought you might like the chance to talk."

The silence that followed was almost as powerful as the incredulous look she gave him.

-x-x-

Evander is surprised how quiet she can be, for so long. He wants to keep talking, just babble. Fill the silence. Talk about the weather. Ninety different ways to pick a lock. Goldfish in the coffee pot. Anything.

She was only _not talking_ because he'd told her to. Stubborn Dragoons.

The sun is high in the sky and he thinks he's going mad. He needs to speak or something. Words, something other than silence.

He's surprised when she says something.

"Have you ever wanted to die, but no one could kill you?" It's so quiet he doesn't think she's said anything at first. He finds himself staring at the back of her head again. It's different, though. Her head is down, chin resting on her knees.

"Yeah," he replies. "Yeah."

"No." He straightens up. "Because you _can_ die. In the end. And will." She shakes her head. "Because you. Monster. Turk. Devil. You are human."

"So are you, Elfé." It's the first time he's said her name. And she laughs. It's the most heartbreaking sound.

"Not anymore."

-x-x-

"So…what are you going to do now?" he asks.

"Get better."

"That's good." He shifts slightly. Sand's crawling up his pant leg. Driving him nuts. "Getting' better is good. Then what?"

"I'm going to kill Veld." It's so straight forward, so blunt.

"Why?" He's really curious. Does she hate him that much?

"Because then it'll be two less grumpy people in this world."

_Two?_

She seems to get his confusion. So she smiles hollowly at him and mimes a gun to her own head. Bang bang, goodbye brain.

"You're kidding."

"What would you know?" A challenge. Fine. Accepted. He pulls back his hair a bit, shows her a scar just over his eyebrow.

"If that's the way you're gonna go…don't miss."

Silence again.

-x-x-

"My partner's dead." He breaks the silence because it bothers him. Not the greatest conversation starter but it'll have to do. "Got killed in a mission. I remember. One sec we're both standin' there, next minute he's not. Don't know what happened. Two weeks later I blew myself up and ran for it." She only shrugs. "Elfé, I know what it's like, okay? Losin' everything. It ain't all sunflowers and daffodils on this side either."

She shakes her head.

"Look…I just want …you need ta give the Chief a chance."

"I owe that man nothing." There's so much venom there. Eva knows he shouldn't let it sting. But he can't help it.

"For the love of Minerva, _listen_. He went looking for you, ya know? In the fire. Damn Kalm! How do you think he lost his arm? He practically tore your house down. We had to pull him out before he suffocated in the smoke. And the whole mess wasn't even his fault! He just got blamed!"

She snorted. "Protect your own ass, see if I care."

"Damnit girl, he _loves _you."

"He loves _Felicia_." He stops, mouth open. Because there's something there. She's crying. Her eyes are wide open. The ocean reflects in them. "And she's dead. She died in the fire."

"And you?"

"I'm Elfé."

"And who's that, then? Who's Elfé, if not Veld Dragoon's daughter?" Eva knows he sounds cold. But he has to know.

"She's the runaway who wanted to live. Who wanted to live so bad she didn't care who died in the meantime..." She begins to sob. "I care. I care. I lied to them. Nothing is better." And she breaks completely. "I only made it worse, didn't I? I only made it all worse."

Her tears bring his. He moves, pulls her into a hug. She's just a little thing, that's all. The world is on her shoulders. It's not fair. But life has never been.

He doesn't try to comfort her. Just holds her while they both sob. _Like babies, _he thinks.

Monsters don't cry, after all.

-x-x-

The sun sets, and they're just sitting there, together. She's stopped crying, staring out into the distance. She's sitting on her own now.

He pulls out from his bag two candles, and two little paper boats.

"I just…you need to give him a chance." He holds the boats and candles out to her. "He comes and does this every year. Lights a candle and sets it off. I dunno why. But…I've seen him. I sit out on the docks and watch him." She looks up at him.

"It helps the spirits find their way home."

He blinks.

"The boat. Lights the way."

"Oh." He looks awkwardly at the pieces in his hands. She stands up slowly. The pain isn't as obvious anymore. She takes a candle and a boat. Snaps her fingers and the flame sparks to life. His eyes widen and she smiles sadly. She reaches out and lights his.

"Say the name of the one you want to lead home, and let it go." The soft voice with so much power. She could have led the world, in the end.

Turning from him, she whispers, "For you, Felicia Dragoon." And with that farewell, she lets the boat go.

-x-x-

They leave the hospital the next day. Veld opens the door for Elfé. She's clutching a bag with her uniform, a katana. A bloodstained bandana and a pair of glasses are tucked away in the bag. She just stares blankly at him, and they stand there awhile. They're both too stubborn to let the other go.

Finally they do leave. For where, Eva doesn't know. He just knows to check the obituaries for a few months.

And breathes a sigh of relief when neither of their names ever shows up.

-x-x-

Legend stopped by to check on him, because he hadn't been going to work. Sick, he'd said. Yeah sick in one way.

He'd finally hit it. The point where it was impossible. Working at the hospital, he'd tried to give back to the world. 'Killed so many. He'd thought letting that candle go would help too.

But the screaming never stopped and each night he sees the faces. And he's sick, yeah, and tired. Wants to sleep forever.

So he sits on the bed with the loaded gun. Takes a deep breath in the dark room. It's all cliché. He's a bit depressed about that. But he wants it dark. So no one will look for him.

Take a breath. Focus. Aim, pull the trigger. Bam, you're gone. Brain's on the wall. He deserves it. He's tried before. This time is it.

Gun loaded, placed. He's not afraid. This is best. He's been dead a long time now. Kill the body.

His phone starts to ring. He forgot to turn it off.

_Everyone who has your number is dead._

He puts the gun down. Because he wants the romanticism of the person on the phone being the last person to hear his thoughts.

He answers, and it's like the first time she says something, it's one or two words of babble. Cosmian if he were to guess. He always forgot to ask. And yet, the word is as clear as day.

"Stop."


	15. Can't Change the Future

**A/N** This AU massacre came from the prompt if Elfe was a time lord.

She immediately turned to me and gave me a list of things she'd do. This was at the top. And the result.

**_Warning: Violence, Character Death. _**

* * *

><p>Can't Change the Future<p>

Her first jaunt was a mistake, as she forgot Midgar wasn't there and ended up in the middle of a wasteland. Not wanting to walk, she got back in her craft, a modest sort of one person airship, and moved up a few days. This time she actually made it to Junon and was able to activate the Circuit and make her ship look like a wardrobe in the hotel room she'd checked out.

She walked around Junon for a few days, marveling in how clean the place was. Shinra was just barely getting started. A manufacturing company. Not the big bad company she knew and hated.

_Perhaps I should…_One bad thing at a time.

She had a side arm on her. Nothing else. One bullet. She was fairly confident. If the bullet didn't work, she had a knife. That was it.

She found him with, of all people, her father. Which meant they had been friends once. She walked past them while they were in Junon University Library. Stared for a moment. He was far younger than she expected. Then again, she forgot that he wasn't always the old, psychopathic doctor who'd ruined her life.

She went back to the hotel and sat with the gun in her hands.

It took her a few tries but she finally figured out a point in which to do it. Veld was talking about some sort of something (she hadn't been paying attention) as she walked up. Hojo looked uninterested. He didn't have the scowl yet. That came with time.

She walked up and stood off to the side. Veld noticed her first.

"Who're you?" He examined her for a long time, like he noticed something was off.

She ignored him and looked right at Hojo. "I'm in Professor Valentine's class with you." A practiced lie. She'd actually been showing up for the past month to make it the truth. After this she'd go back. Valentine was interesting to listen to, and not far off base (he didn't know that. She did only because she was living proof).

"So?" Hojo didn't even seem to acknowledge her. He was more interested in his fingers.

"Can I borrow your notes? I missed today." Also a lie, but who cared. Veld rolled his eyes.

"I'll get us a spot in the Cafeteria. You help her out." Hojo looked like he was about to protest but Veld was already walking away.

Hojo turned back to her.

"You know, I thought I'd be sorry," she said it before he could speak again. He looked confused and she drew the side arm and pointed it right at him. "I'm not."

She hadn't expected him to lunge at her, but the result was all the same. She actually hadn't thought about Veld running back at the sound of the shot, but that became the least of her worries.

Because the moment she'd fired the shot and killed all of her problems, something _else_ had happened.

She began to disintegrate.

"Oh." She said, after a moment. The bloody gun fell out of her hands and clattered to the ground. Veld was staring at her with shocked eyes and she shook her head.

"I guess this means I don't exist."


	16. Let me Take you Home

"Let me take you home"(Sign of a Butterfly)

**A/n:** The wonderous Nashi, who puts up with me way too much (almost as much as...no, probably more than Crim, actually), gave me this prompt. The "Let me take you home" part, at least.

Anyway

I wanted to write for Fuhito. I told myself I would. It ended up with this, which is a disaster. I'm posting it because it has to go somewhere and I don't want to think about it anymore but.

It's due for a rewrite. Or scrapping. Or something. I can't write for Fuhito. This is proof.

Also, apologies like mad for the tense issues. I need a beta, that's for sure.

* * *

><p><em>I want to go home<em>.

Some things children latch onto. Like a thought, or a dream…something potentially unattainable or farfetched.

_I want to go home._

For her, that was the unattainable. Home was a distant, faded dream. She cannot remember any of it, just that she _did_ have a home somewhere. She remembered hands and voices and warmth that didn't burn like it did now. Just warmth, not fire.

They could take everything but the memory of warmth. And the lullaby. No one could take her lullaby.

One day, the cold woke her up. That was the day she ran.  
>-<p>

It started with the cameras going down. Her hand was bloody and she was holding wires. That's all she knew. The voice in her head whispered _run run run_ so she _ran_ because at least the voice knew what to do. At least this time.

_Run! Run! Run!_ Her footsteps hit in time with the order, the bloody lab coat (whose blood is it?) wrapped around her pale, thin body flapping as she searched for the door. Her feet left blood trailing behind her. The hallway was littered with bodies. Her hands clutched broken bits of glass like knives. She did not know how to fight. This was instinct and the voice in her head telling her what to do.

The room smelt of burnt, charred death.

She'd never forget the smell.  
>_<p>

Inventory: A lab coat, bandages, a medical kit.

Something in her memory told her to grab the medical kit. She didn't know why, but she did.  
>_<p>

Inside the city, outside the labs, she keeps her head down. Sticks to the shadows…she is but another emaciated orphan, after all. Someone stops her, asks her a question.

She has no voice to answer. She looks at them, and they're scared of her dead eyes.

She keeps walking, aiming for the sunlight.

Outside the city, outside the lab… the light blinds her. The sun is burning, the air is dirty, and the wind is harsh and unrelenting.

She's crying because the sky is a beautiful, beautiful shade of blue.  
>_<p>

This was the first time the students were going to be on their own, collecting rocks and dirt and things to be tested later for science class. The Elder watches as they separate into groups or pairs and scatter off, his eyes watching each one carefully. A frown graces his features when he spies one student going off alone.

"Aramaki! Partner up!" he calls. The boy stops and adjusts his glasses but shakes his head. The Elder sighs as he watches the orphan boy disappear around a rocky outcropping.

Today was the first time the students were going to be on their own, and he was determined to show the Elder he was best off _on his own._ None of the others even compared to him, and he was going to show it.

None of the other students seemed to understand as well has he did. It all moved so slow around them. He wanted to learn at his own pace.

So here Fuhito was, doing an assignment set for three by himself. It was boring and unoriginal, no challenge at all. Frustrated, he closed his books and leaned back against the rock face.

And something happened then.

A butterfly, one type Fuhito had never seen before, flew up and landed on his knee. It was the most striking shade of…red? His eyes widened slightly. The butterfly seemed to be…on fire.

Too curious for his own good, he carefully reached out his hand. Attempting to get a feel if the wings were really flames or if he was just hallucinating in the heat. Scientifically speaking, the latter was the most likely. Butterflies couldn't be on _fire._

The butterfly, predictably, lifted from his knee and away from his grasp. However, instead of flying away, it flew around his head once…twice… and then hovered in front of his nose. He smelled ash.

"What…do you want?" He asked the creature, although he knew it wouldn't answer. It fluttered a bit before him, and then started to fly off. Curious, he stood up and shoved his books into his rucksack and charged after it.

It didn't fly far, nor did it seem to be trying to get away from Fuhito. It defiantly was leading him to somewhere…or…someone.

_Someone?_

And yet, that was what it was. The creature, the flame butterfly, flew before him and landed onto the person's outstretched hand. The person didn't move.

He dropped his bag and ran to the person's side.

"Hey!" he shouted, not even noticing that the butterfly didn't move away. "Hey! Are you okay?"

No, of course not. The body was clothed in rags and the feet were torn up and bleeding. On closer inspection, the person could be identified as a very very thin, small girl. She didn't seem to be breathing.

Fuhito shook her gently. The butterfly flew up from her hand. "Hey…come on, wake up." He carefully rolled her onto her back. Her eyes were shut, her lips cracked and bleeding. She was sunburnt to a painful degree. Her hands were covered in bloody rags as well, the fingernails caked with mud. Her hair was matted with blood and dirt.

The butterfly flew down and landed on the girl's chest. Her eyes shot open and she gasped. She jolted up so quickly that Fuhtio fell back and stared. The butterfly flew around the girl, as if trying to guard her. She tried to stand.

"No!" Fuhito shouted, but she didn't seem to notice and fell to her knees again. She was far too weak.

Her lips moved to form words that Fuhito couldn't understand. They are so soft that he can hardly hear them. Her voice is raspy, broken. It seems to hurt her to talk. Her eyes swung to him; wild, fearful eyes. She pointed at him, and, for a moment, the air seemed to heat up.

And then she collapsed.

"No no no!" he dove to catch her, keeping her head from hitting the ground. "Don't die!" Her eyes fluttered open and shut. Briefly the thought _she doesn't understand me_ filtered through his head but didn't stay.

Without much thought, he shifted to having the girl on his back, with little difficulty (she didn't weight hardly anything). Walking awkwardly, he began to call for help.

How in the world was he going to explain this?

He honestly had never seen an Elder run so fast. He and the other students could hardly keep up as they ran back to Cosmo.

Once back inside the village, the Elder all but disappeared, taking the frail girl with him. The students, having nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, left for their homes.

Fuhito waited in the village proper, next to the Candle. Saying prayers to whoever would listen for the girl. But even as he tried to focus, his thoughts drifted.

Why was she out here? Where had she come from? What had happened to her?

_Who was she?_

Questions plagued him like a stigma. Questions, he feared, would never be answered. Curiosity, the search for knowledge, was his bane.

The Elder returned many hours later. He'd lost count.

"Aramaki." The boy jumped to his feet at the sound of his name. He tried not the fidget as the Elder approached. He knew he should hold his tongue but curiosity won out over caution.

"Is she—"

"She has not and she may never," the Elder interrupted, tone grave but eyes soft. "She has faced many terrible ordeals, Aramaki. Death may be a gift to her, at this point."

"How do you know that?" he questioned. "Maybe she just got lost." The Elder seemed to know something more than he was telling, but the older man didn't say a word. "May I stay with her?"

"Perhaps," the Elder sighed. "But Fuhito, I need to ask you. Did you see anything out of the ordinary? How did you find the girl?"

Fuhito blinked. Now would be the time to tell the Elder about the flame butterfly. But instead, the boy just shook his head.

"No sir. I just found her while trying to complete my assignment."

The Elder frowned. "Is that so?"

"Yes Sir."

"Alright then. You may go." As he was running away, he heard the Elder mutter something under his breath. He couldn't quite make it out but it sounded like _"Fates help us all."_

He wasn't allowed in to actually see her for two days after they'd brought her into the village. Her condition was "too dire" according to the healer. So he sat outside the home and watched them work on her through the door. The healer's house was one that was built into the side of the Canyon. Fuhito had never cursed its lack of windows until this moment.

As soon as he was allowed, he sat by her bedside. In the cot, with pillows and different sorts of potions and blankets and such, she looked so very small. Her feet and hands were wrapped, and they'd dressed her in a loose, light blue tunic.

She always seemed to be in pain. Even though she was sleeping, her face was set in a scowl and she would wince every so often. She never made much more sound then a pained whimper, and even that was so very quiet.

When he'd fall asleep, he'd hold her hand. Because he thought that might make the pain go away. Her grip was weak on his. She still never opened her eyes.

One morning he woke up and there was another man in the room. Fuhito knew this man. He was who the people of the village whispered about. The man from the city.

Everyone here just called him "Lost." He was the leader of a terrorist organization, one he called AVALANCHE. They lived in the Canyon, outside of the village. The Elders didn't mind them, as long as AVALANCHE didn't bring any trouble to them.

Fuhito wanted nothing more than to join AVALANCHE. Many Cosmians were sympathetic to the organization, at least in his opinion. But, as an orphan who lost his parents to the company AVALANCHE was fighting, he was a bit _more_ than just sympathetic.

Fuhito wondered why he was even here. Lost was always busy, it seemed. How he had time to sit at this mysterious girl's bedside was beyond him.

He didn't seem to notice Fuhito at all. He was watching the girl breathe, so very slowly. The healer came in and stared at them all.

"Staring at her won't wake her up," the healer scolded, hands on his hips. "Let the child die in peace." Fuhito's head shot between the girl and the healer. He didn't _want_ her to die.

"She won't die," Lost stated, a grim smile on his battle-worn face. "She's too stubborn."

Fuhito wondered how he knew this…

Fuhito missed when her eyes opened. He was too busy watching the flutter of butterflies that had collected by the window. There were no flowers in the room, no source of food for them, and yet they were all here. Like they'd been called.

And although Fuhito couldn't understand it, he'd learn later that her first whispered word was, in fact, "butterflies."

The unfamiliar sound drew his gaze back, and he was met with stormy eyes, looking very shocked, confused, and most of all, lost.

Her second set of words were "Who are you?" They were said very softly and not without malice. Fuhito had no idea what she said. She was the first person he'd ever heard speak something other than Cosmian.

"I don't understand."

She went silent, because now she saw the problem. She blinked at him, slow. Her mouth was a thin line. She brought her hands up and did something with them (sign language, later understood by most members of AVALANCHE so they could communicate silently).

He shook his head, and then noticed something. The bandages on her hands were gone. His eyes locked on the shining shards and marred skin on the back of her hands.

She looked down as well.

The Healer came in when Fuhito started screaming at her. His hands had her blood on them. She'd tried to claw the shards out.

Lost, it turned out, could understand and speak the language of the Girl.

Not that she'd said anything since she'd woken up.

But he _did_ speak it and she _did_ understand. And Fuhito was a little bit jealous, because he wanted to talk to her (he was the one who found her, after all).

After some time, Lost was able to get her to speak. And it was never more than five words. The girl guarded her thoughts like they were her last treasure. Perhaps they were.

Lost had a different idea about it, though. One he explained to Fuhito when the healer had shooed them both from the room one day. The girl needed a bath (which was a daylong endeavor, everyone was learning. She could _hide_).

But Fuhito asked why she didn't say much and Lost turned to him sadly.

"Sometimes, after screaming for so long, you realize no one is coming for you and silence becomes your only companion."

In his head, Fuhito started calling her _Mariposa_. One of the travelers who'd come through Cosmo once had left him a book of languages. In his book, which he was reading diligently now that it was useful, it said that _Mariposa _meant butterfly.

The longer he knew her, however, the less like a butterfly she was.

She wasn't loud, but she was cross, stubborn, and wouldn't speak to anyone. Even if she was hungry. She didn't like their food, she didn't want their help, and she was prone to attacking people (especially if they got near her hands).

By the end of the month, he was wondering if he should look up the word for dragon. She certainly was like one of _those_.

He didn't mean to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, but for some reason he wasn't at all surprised when they found out she _could_ breathe fire.

"What did they do to you?" Lost was the one who said it. But Fuhito could understand it. The girl appeared to be asleep, her back turned to them.

He remembered her hands, the mangled mess that should have been unscathed skin. Her body temperature being so much higher than normal. She could breathe fire on very rare occasions. Something lurked behind her eyes.

She knew things she shouldn't and didn't know things she should. She didn't know her age, her name, where she was from. She knew where she was, and had learned fragments of their language from only listening.

They'd find her, sometimes, staring out the window towards the Flame in the center of the village. She had some connection with it. Fuhito doubted she was human. He wondered if the gods had sent her for some reason.

But now Lost was asking questions. What had _who_ done to her?

They were sitting side by side outside the Council Room. She knew him as the boy who was always by her side. His name on her lips always sounded funny, but he made no comment. She was still the girl without a name. In his head only was she the Mariposa.

Officially, he was in charge of making sure she didn't run off. She liked to run, they found that out the hard way. The first time they'd taken her outside for fresh air she'd gone and sprinted up a tree. Took them the rest of the day to get her down. She had been waiting for someone, they learned. But she couldn't remember who.

But she wasn't going anywhere, curled up like that. Right now the Elders were deciding where she would go.

Ten minutes previous, Lost had walked into the Council Room, saying no words to either of them.

"Fu…" He looked over. Her head was in her knees but he knew she'd spoken. "What if they get rid of me?" Her Cosmian was broken at best, but she was learning.

"They won't."

"They could…cast me into the wastes."

"They won't, I promise."

" No one would miss me." She looked at him then. "I don't even have a name."

"Elfé."

Both Fuhito and the girl jerked towards the voice. Lost stood there, on hand on his him, the other hanging limply by his side. "Come on, we're going."

The girl looked at Fuhito, confused.

"Elfé." She looked back at Lost, pointing one finger back towards herself. "Yes, that's you. Come on, girl. We've got a walk."

"I'm… Elfé?" Lost looked bemused.

"Your skull isn't that thick," he chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Yes, Elfé is you. And you're my responsibility. It's time to go." Fuhito felt a pang of jealousy. "Say goodbye to Fuhito."

Since when did Lost know his name?

He didn't have long to ponder this, however. Because the girl (_Elfé_) was now awkwardly wrapped around his middle, refusing to let go. And Fuhito knew what this meant. They weren't going to _get_ her to let go.

"No!"

Lost sighed, rubbed his forehead, and turned back to the Council Room. He shouted inside.

"Aramaki Fuhito is coming with me too!" he looked back at Elfé. Softer, he said "You won't be able to pull this later, understand?"

Her smile was bright, if not timid.

"Fine. Fine. Sheesh I'm terrible with kids…" Lost shook his head once more. "Let's go home."

The room was silent save the hum of the computer and the whirl of generators far beneath them. If he listened close, he could hear fighting in the distance, reverberating from the halls connecting to this room. They were on their way.

The room was cold, and smelled heavily of Mako. He didn't seem to mind.

He left the computer and walked across the room. There, a woman lay prone, eye closed, seemingly at rest.

Fuhito crouched down next to Elfé's head, watching her breathe. It was far slower than the last time he checked. In fact, it was slowing down as he watched. She'd been in a coma for about a week. About, because she would periodically wake up for a very short span of time before slipping under again.

Oh, she was too stubborn to _die._

His Elfé, his beautiful stubborn girl with her Messiah Complex and her inherent demon. To stubborn to die with nothing left to live for.

The fighting was closer. He was still smiling.

She looked so strange, he decided. Peaceful. Her sleep had never been _peaceful_. Always wracked with nightmares. Denied screams. Faces of the unknown.

One of those faces was on its way.

He started to laugh, a bit. How was it he knew her so well, so much better than anyone else, and she knew nothing of him? Stubborn nativity? Blind trust?

Maybe she did know him. He edited the thought. The younger him, the one who hadn't been betrayed by his idol, the one who hadn't been told his dreams were nightmarish.

"Fu…" Broken Cosmain. It _had been_ awhile. He looked to her, trying to fight a smile.

"My Commander Elfé." He was taunting. She took it as sincerity.

"Fu, you need…to go." Ah, ever the Soldier. The last to fall.

"I'll be fine, Elfé . Rest now." She started to get up. "Shh," he easily held her down with one hand. How times had changed. "It's fine."

It's not like she _could _fight with him anymore. She was going to say something, he saw it. But her eyes closed and she went limp again. _Stop fighting, silly girl._

No matter. It'd all be over soon.

He turned away and listened to the approaching battle. He'd recently received report that Shears was dead for good this time. Turks on the way. Veld Dragoon too. How fair was that, anyway? Elfé got two families. He didn't even have one.

The scowl settled on his face. No matter. It'd all be over soon.

His eyes directed him back to Elfé. His Mariposa. His one friend, till the end of time. Sleeping, almost eternally, cold on a slab. And she was cold. The fire was dead inside her. Living but cold. Not for much longer.

He kissed her then, strangely for him. He didn't know why, as he'd never even thought about doing it before (despite the rumors that had been spread about them, he knew there were many). Her lips were rough and chapped. She was no sleeping princess, but he was no knight in armor either.

He stood up and smiled. On her chest, a flame butterfly rested. His eyes were slightly manic as he reached out to it. It didn't fly away, like before. Instead it landed on his fingers and _changed. _A serpentine form. Fangs biting into his wrist.

A pained gasp escapes the both of them. Elfé's form goes completely limp and he staggers away from her. He burns, and laughs at the feeling of it.

"Now," and straight he stands. He bows to the girl from the wastes, the girl who had everything he ever wanted and yet nothing at all. His Mariposa. "Let me take you home."


	17. Marauding Masquerade CROSSOVER

Marauding Masquerade

**A/N: **So I debated about putting this here, and let me state right off that this is a CROSSOVER OF FFVII AND FFXII.

The idea came from role-playing with a Balthier for five months. He ended up sticking to Elfé like glue, and it wasn't like she minded. They were the best of friends, the thickest of thieves, and when Elfé left back for Gaia, she jokingly had become Balthier's (older!) sister.

So this comes from Balthier swearing that he was going to update Elfé's wardrobe.

* * *

><p>Elfé rarely got showers or bathed when Balthier was around or awake. He made the joke that she was hydrophobic because of her internal flame. She'd asked how, then, she never smelled or was dirty; he simply stated that she burned the dirt and germs off.<p>

Either way, one day she couldn't wait to get in the shower and get clean. She'd been hit by a particularly nasty attack from a Malboro. Balthier even commented on the severe decline in her mood when she was covered in about a foot of muck.

She made no comment back.

The moment she was back on the Strahl, she shouted an apology for dirtying the place and immediately started to strip on the way to the bathroom. Balthier didn't make a comment because by the time she got to the bathroom he _still _could _only_ see the skin on her arms.

She spent about a half an hour trying to wash her clothes before giving up and taking the shower. Which took another hour or so because the muck was _everywhere_.

"Balthier! Where the _hell_ are my clothes?"

She stood awkwardly in her room, which was right across from the shower she'd used, clad only in a towel. Her closet was empty, her room completely devoid of her normal outfits. Or anything at all.

Well, there was…a dress laid out on her bed in such a neat fashion. But that didn't count one bit. It did give away where her clothes went though.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Normally, she didn't mind that voice, because she found it funny. Because he was using it to taunt somebody.

He was using it to taunt _her_, however. And that was new.

"Balthier!" It was amusing that she could use the acoustics of her room to make it seem like she was yelling but was only speaking a bit louder than normal. She poked her head out of her room, glaring daggers at the man.

"Yes Elfé?" He was holding a sock in his hand, examining it like it was the weirdest thing he'd ever seen.

"That's _my_ sock!" He grinned at her and shrugged. "Where are _my_ clothes?"

"You _have_ clothes, dear. On your bed. Wear those."

"There is no way in _Ifrit's hell_ that I'm wearing a dress!"

"Huh…" He looked a bit disappointed. "Guess you'll have to walk around naked then. Good day."

"Balthier mied Bunansa!"

He bowed, the glee in his face undeterred by the use of his full name, and strode off down the hallway, waving the sock like a flag.

"Now really, is this some sort of shoe?" he asked when she stormed onto the bridge. He could feel her glaring at the back of his head as he stared confusedly at the sock. "It is slightly thin, wouldn't you say?"

"It's a sock, and it's _mine_." She snatched it back, causing him to look at her.

And let out a low whistle.

Well, it was obvious she was uncomfortable, if the crossed arms and awkward fidgeting was anything to go by. But she looked _good_. Damn good. Which meant…

"I look ridiculous." Ah, Balthier wondered when she was going to say that.

Yes, he'd admit that stealing all her clothes and leaving an Arcadian ball gown on her bed as her only form of covering was a bit of a cruel move. However it was a cruel necessity.

And she looked _fine_, so why was it such a big deal.

"Balthier, I'm going to kill you." He smirked at her, not at all afraid of her threat. Instead, he stood up from his seat and strode up to her.

"You look wonderful," he smirked. "Now, put this on. We're going dancing."

A mask was offered, ornate and far more extravagant than anything Elfé would have chosen. She donned it with a scowl.

"I can't dance." Elfé was on repeat and Balthier knew it was very rude to ignore her but he was doing just that. "I can't dance and I'm going to embarrass you."

"You told me you've done this before," he teased.

"The man I danced with was drunk! And the other turned out to be my father!"

"That's unfortunate."

"Let me go back to the _Strahl_, Balthier…" Elfé looked mournfully back at the sky again. Balthier had told her multiple times.

"I promised to take you dancing and so dancing we shall go," he insisted. "Plus Judge Zagabaath needs a visit."

"This is a mission?" She laughed slightly and he winked at her. She was still nervous (that much was obvious) but maybe giving her something to focus on was a better choice than trying to talk her into dancing.

She felt inadequate next to him. She was trying her best not to show it but the feeling was there. He stood tall, holding her arm with a practice elegance she'd never be able to mirror. In this way, he looked nothing like the rogue he really was, and a part of her wished he'd drop the act and make her feel less awkward.

But he doesn't because he can't and they walk in under false names. She'd fallen back to Mari, her old, perfect pseudonym, while he uses something she couldn't begin to pronounce but seems acceptable. Her Arcadian is terrible. She decided to stay silent as long as possible.

She felt his eyes on her and looked up from beneath the mask.

"What?" her tone was sharper than she expected

"You're beautiful," he stated, with utmost clarity and meaning. And she was, from her sharp eyes peering at him down to her toes (which he'd convinced her to paint, he thought triumphantly). And everything in between. "It's an honor to have you on my arm tonight."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're drunk again aren't you." And Balthier looked sad, actually. Very sad.

"I can't compliment you without being called drunk?" The sincerity in his tone was probably what caught her off guard. For one moment, the sky pirate was missing completely, and someone else was standing there. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because it's not true." Habitual response.

Balthier shook his head and gave her a wry grin. The Pirate was back.

"I'll just have to keep complimenting you then," he laughed, "until you do believe me."

They separated once inside. Balthier was off to find his target and she was off to sit in the corner and observe everything. The wallflower.

And everything seems to be going alright. After all, no one seems to notice her.

Balthier can't help but notice that a good portion of the male population (and some of the females, let's be honest) have eyes that seem to be drifting to one corner of the room. He tries not to let it bother him.

But he is bothered, a bit. After all, it's _his_ companion everyone seems to be gawking at.

Not that he can blame them for noticing what he knew was obvious.

He'd known from the moment they'd walked in that she wasn't going to be as invisible as she hoped.

It was simple. In the glitz and glamor, whites and crèmes and golds, she stood out in her green and purple gown. But what was striking wasn't just her contrast of color. If it had been, Balthier would have taken the credit and moved on. After all, he _had_ been the one to pick out the gown.

It was the way she held herself. Her quiet confidence, backed up by her striking, aged eyes and silent grace. She'd never see it, would she? Everyone in the room may have been Archadian aristocracy but Elfé Dragoon was the only regal being there.

If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was a queen. Maybe that's what the rest of the room thought. He smirked.

"Care to dance, m'lady?" Elfé looked up, slightly startled. The night had passed well enough and no one had spoken to her. And yet, here was a man, looking down at her from behind a bird mask.

_Go away,_ she thought. However, she was supposed to be cordial and lady like so those were not the words spoken.

"I would be…grateful for the pleasure…" she muttered, hoping to catch the correct Arciadian pronunciation. Seemed that she got it right because the man grinned and offered his hand. Elfé stood and took his hand, allowing herself to be led to the dance floor.

She felt eyes following them as they began to dance. Was she doing something wrong?

"I must be the luckiest man here," her dance partner broke her concentration. "To have the honor of dancing with you."

"Why?" Elfé didn't mean to be so blunt but she hadn't done anything spectacular and Balhtier assured her that _as a nobody_, she wouldn't be bothered.

"You seem to have scoffed at dancing this whole eve," he commented.

"I didn't want to step on any toes." Figuratively and literally. They began a waltz and Elfé focused on his feet, to make sure she didn't step on them.

"Did you come here by yourself?" He asked, curious. She looks around as they spin, trying to spot Balthier.

"No…" she shook her head. "I came with my friend." There he is. Talking to someone in armor.

"Someone as beautiful as yourself shouldn't be left alone." That brought her attention back to her dance partner.

"Maybe he was just giving me space…" Something told her this wasn't going to end well.

Balthier was a little miffed at how quickly Zagabaath picked him out of the crowd. Well, he hadn't actually been too subtle.

"Enjoying the party, Mr. Grey?" Ah yes, Balthier had wondered when the Judge would come and speak to him. "Or Balthier. Or whatever it is you are calling yourself now."

"It's dreadful. You wouldn't know how to throw a party if your life depended on it," Balthier countered, his voice laced with dull seriousness that almost made the comment humorous.

"Ah yes, I'm sorry it doesn't hold up to _your_ standards…" The Judge replied dryly. A server walked past and Balthier grabbed another glass of wine. He wasn't nearly drunk enough to deal with this man. "Now that you're here, should I warn everyone to watch their purses?" He continued talking but Balthier was distracted.

As he watched, some dandy walked across the room and right to the certain corner where his regal companion had set up camp. There was an exchange of words. Her pretty little blush. A hesitation, and then she was up and on that worthless dandy's arm. He felt himself frowning, but only because she looked so very uncomfortable being noticed. If she had been enjoying herself he wouldn't care who she was dancing with.

He assumed.

"Ah, I wondered who she belonged to," Zagabaath's comment drew him out of his reverie and back to reality. "She does not seem like the normal harlots you tend to attract. Wherever did you find her?"

Balthier felt his face pale, a certain sign of the onset of anger.

"She is nothing of the sort. I request that you retract that statement." Oh, jibs at himself he could take, as he knew for a fact that it was all jealousy towards the Leading Man that led people to take shots at his person. But he would not stand for anyone talking about _his Elfé_ in such a way.

"Hmm, she seems a strange bedfellow. What possibly attracted her to you?"

"Her remarkable intelligence and unnatural beauty. The fact that she is completely and totally resistant to my charm," Balthier's voice had taken a particularly hard tone. "And that she could rip you apart in seconds." His fingers flexed. It was all he could do not to deck the Judge in the face, grab Elfé and leave.

"Oh?" Zagabaath seemed about to say something else, but a startled yelp drew their attention away.

Elfé found herself too annoyed with this man after he'd started actually talking. She'd gone what most people would consider "conspicuously silent," however this man didn't seem to notice one bit. He was too entertained hearing himself speak (not unlike Balither), but he wasn't actually _saying_ anything (quite unlike Balthier). And when he did say something worth listening to, she found it completely and totally offensive.

This man was, in fact, a complete elitist, chauvinist pig. And she had had quite enough.

"I…seem to be very tired. Would you excuse me?" One dance was far more than enough. She wanted out of this man's grip and back to her corner where there was far less of a fire hazard. She slipped from his grip and started moving quickly from the floor.

To her annoyance, he followed her.

"Now now, don't run. You owe me a kiss."

"I owe you nothing." She was startled, only because she didn't think he'd grab her. So when she found herself pressed with her back against the wall and this strange Archadian looming over her, she found herself a bit shocked and a tad defensive.

"Come now, I've seen the way you've been watching me all night. You've been _begging_ for this."

Oh.

So he had noticed.

She'd been eyeing his pocket watch the whole night.

"I think you are mistaken." She put her hands on his chest and gave a light push. "Please, move." _Or I will move you._

"Not until I get my kiss," the man stated. He did it then. Kissed her, that is. And a second later, she slapped him clean across the face.

He staggered away from him, roaring with anger and shock. She stood, back against the wall, face flared from rage herself. And embarrassment.

"How dare you!" The man shouted, moving in. He raised his hand to hit her. "Learn your place."

"Oh, come now. She knows her place. You need to learn yours." Balthier caught the hand in a vice-like grip and pulled him away from his companion. "Are you alright, dear?" Elfé nodded, obviously grateful. Her eyes were liquid fire. He realized he'd just prevented her from roasting this man where he stood. Good thing too, that'd draw so much attention. Roast asshole smelled terrible after all.

The man ripped his hand from Balthier's grasp and stumbled away. "Control your harlot!" he told Balthier.

Really, the Pirate didn't know where the gun _came_ from. Only that he was very happy to point it at the man's face and smirk. "Now, you might want to take that back."

The man paled considerably.

"Come, dearest. I believe we have overstayed our welcome." Balthier waved to Elfé and she moved around to his side. The two of them backed quickly out of the room. The Pirate could hear Zagabaath calling for guards. They smiled at each other, clasped hands, and did what they did best.

Ran.

Far away from the party, and completely unscathed minus Elfé's missing shoes, the two stopped running, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"I hate Archadians," she stated, holding her sides.

"Me too," Balthier agreed. "And I _am_ one." She shook her head.

"You're nothing like them…" Not as far as she could tell. And in the course of the night, she'd learned more than she really wanted. They walked arm and arm the rest of the way to the Strahl. For the hell of it.

She disappeared once they were on board and he assumed she was going to change. He made about taking off and getting them up in the air and _far away_. Zagabaath and his cronies couldn't catch them now.

Safely flying, he went out in search of this renegade companion. He was shocked when he found her sitting on the observation deck, window open, still clothed in her masquerade gown. The mask was in her hand.

He couldn't help but stare. She seemed to be something out of a painting. And even then, he knew that her beauty was more than skin deep. He was proud to have her as his companion.

"Elfé," Balthier's voice broke the quiet, and she looked back at him. "I am sorry." Her head tilted to the side and she patted the railing beside her, as if offering him a seat.

"Why?"

"This night went terribly for you. I never even considered a pig taking advantage of you in such a way. I should have stayed by your side." He actually did sound mournful. But Elfé just smiled.

"I'm a big girl, Balthier. I can take care of myself." He offered her a placid smile and placed a brotherly kiss to her temple.

"Ah yes, but it was a disaster none the less. I promise to do better from now on." And she laughed, which earned her a confused expression.

"Not a total disaster," she clarified.

"Oh?"

And Elfé held up an ornate pocket watch, one Balthier had never seen before.

"I believe I learned from the best."


	18. It is Written

**A/N: **So this is a letter found in Elfé personal affects when the Turks went through after she "died." It's all headcanon, but I use it as an explanation as to why my Elfé tells me the phrase "it is written."

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><p>When I was little, Mayami (it means "my mother") used to tell me stories. Wonderful tales, of bravery and strife and terror and triumph. She'd tell me these things to put me to sleep, after reminding me that even though she wasn't my real mother, she'd protect me always.<p>

Mayami was blind. Born without the ability to see. But she saw more than even the best marksmen I know.

She was the only one to tell me I was beautiful. Probably the only one I would believe, anyway. She had a way about these things.

She stood fast next to my mentor through all of his troubles, and yet to this day I cannot tell you if she was his wife. I don't think it matters, but to some people it does.

She is the closest thing to a mother I can remember.

Mayami protected me from the bad times and helped me through my troubles as well. I was the one who brought her the news that Lost was gone. We stood together as she said her final prayers for him, to lead his spirit to the Lifestream. Her voice shook, and so did her hands. But she was strong on that day. Stronger than I was.

_It is written_, she said. Something she always said, as a way of letting go of the things that were out of our control.

In those next few weeks, Mayami was the one who helped me adjust to the fact that I was to be the successor to lead AVALANCHE. Not Fuhito. To this day, I wonder what influenced the decision to be so, although Mayami ceaselessly reminds me that doubt in my own person will bring down my cause.

I worked my whole life to make Lost (my mentor) proud of me. I don't know if I ever succeeded, as in his final battle he chose to fight it alone than with me by his side.

But if I do nothing else, I will make Mayami proud of me. This I swear.

Today I assume the mantle of leader of the organization my mentor and sometimes father left behind. I will not fail in my goals, should I fight to my dying breath. This I also swear.

And so, I leave you with the words she taught me.

_As it is Written, it will Be._

_Elfé_

_(An entry in the journal of the Leader of AVALANCHE, dated 8 years before Meteorfall)_


	19. Surface Tension

Surface Tension

A/N: So this is another romantic Zeng/Elfé fictlet in which I try to explain to people what their relationship is like. I either did very well or failed miserably.

For those of you who've started to ship it, we call it Zelfé.

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><p>Elfé, if asked, would be proud to admit that she'd lost track of how many surfaces Zeng had made love to her on in the house.<p>

And, of course, while one would raise an eyebrow at her blunt statement, it wouldn't take long to realize her definition was different than normal society's.

She knew that, of course, the conventional definition of "making love" boiled down to the word "sex" and a slew of other words that she didn't quite know the meaning of, even though she'd grown up as she did. And, although not as blissfully naïve as the next person, it was obvious that her knowledge of social conventions—especially in a sector such as this—was severely lacking.

It wouldn't take long to realize that "making love" to Elfé Dragoon could be something as mundane as holding hands for a prolonged period of time, or a kiss before leaving the house. Of course, it could include the actual act itself (that is, the one thing people expected her to be doing behind closed doors with her Wutian husband-to-be), but she'd also readily admit that this certain aspect (the purely physical side of their relationship) was unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

Normally this would be when the other half of the conversation, whoever it may be, would give Elfé a look that said, quite simply, _you just don't get it at all, do you? _To which Elfé would just shrug and the topic would change to something like the weather.

To Elfé, however, her relationship with Zeng was as much, if not more, metaphysical than physical. The ties that bound them physically were loose and frail, but the solidarity they were slowly (yes, very slowly) building internally made that frailty moot.

So while "normal social convention" dictated that her relationship should be more physical than it was, Elfé was not bothered.

Because love to Elfé, in this sense, was the fact that Zeng would reach over and tentatively take her hand during random points of conversation. Especially if he thought she wasn't looking or paying attention (although she always was). Love was him accepting that she wore gloves most of the time, even when sleeping. And that even with the discomfort in seeing her hands, if he did he'd just nod, or make some physical gesture to show that they didn't bother him.

Love was the fact that he looked upon her scars with the attention of an artist, and although it made her uncomfortable to show them, she was growing to accept them and move on.

Love was that she could sleep in bindings and gloves next to him and wake up the next morning unmoved. Or covered in blankets, should she so much as shiver during the night. Perhaps he's be clutching at her, not painfully, with his face buried in her hair. Most of the time he would just be asleep on his side of the bed. That is if they shared the bed at all.

So love was also that he didn't mind if she disappeared into the woods for hours or days or sometimes weeks. He didn't seem to mind that she would jump into his window or randomly appear on his doorstep.

Nor did he seem to mind her tracking water and mud into the house, although she noticed he twitched a little bit at that.

Their relationship was less words and more glances. Mutual understanding through time of just standing by one another.

Their relationship was complicated in the way it was simple.

It just was.


	20. AsleepSweet Dreams Are

Asleep (Sweet Dreams Are…)

**A/N: **So the movie Sucker Punch. I liked it, not everyone did, but I did. And I like to steal the music and think about how that applies to my characters.

_White Rabbit, Where is my Mind, Alseep, and Sweet Dreams are Made of This_ are my favorite songs from it.

I recommend listening to _Asleep_ while reading this fict. Also yes it's another Zelfé fict.

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><p>It's at times like these she forgot they fought. When they did "normal couple" things-going to movies, eating out, sleeping in the same room…the usual. Now, as they got ready for bed, after a day of just doing things—handholding, reading, talking—it seemed like they were finally getting this relationship stuff.<p>

"Comment…?" Zeng asked, as he came out of the bathroom. She was sitting on the bed, reading a book while waiting for him. She looked up and nodded, as if giving him permission to continue. "I think you wear more clothes to bed then you do during the day…"

Elfé blinked and looked down at herself before chuckling. He only noticed because she was wearing one of his old shirts. A sight that would have been considered seductive by most had she not been wearing one of his old shirts over two other layers of various sleeping attire.

"I think you're right." She got so cold when she slept though. She closed her book and set it on the night stand as he got into bed next to her. "Night then." She kissed him gently. A different place every night. This time, it was the tip of his ear.

Zeng didn't seem to mind that the comment was brushed off so easily. That was the way Elfé was sometimes. He just returned the kiss (middle of her eyes, his favorite place) and turned off the lamp on the night stand. Elfé turned off hers, and then snuggled down next to him.

The room plunged into darkness, save the green illumination of the numbers on the digital clock on Zeng's bedside table. The only sounds came from the night filtering in from the open window, and the steady breathing from the room's two occupants.

_3:15_

Elfé was still awake. Had been since the lights went out. Waiting, listening. Thinking. She turned her head and looked at Zeng's back. He was deeply asleep, but would be awake at a moment's notice, should there be trouble.

"Sometime I have nightmares where I wake up and you're dead." Her voice is low and light, like the lull of the wind. She's careful not to say his name. "Or that you're gone, moved on to something else. Petty troubles." She reaches out, as if to touch him, but does not allow herself the pleasure. "Or that I've killed you."

Zeng sighs in his sleep and Elfé waits, watching silently for him to settle back into whatever ex-Turks dream about (maybe its kittens) before continuing.

"Othertimes, I see us with a family. Or as grandparents. Proud, old lovers who sit together looking at photo albums and memories…" Her voice actually shakes. "Those hurt worse."

She retracts her hand and shift to lie on the bed again, staring at the ceiling. She's just listening to the sound of him breathing, a short comfort.

"I never dream about anything happy." The confession seems to take more out of her than she realized, as she shudders back a sob and works to steel herself again.

The silence sets in before she speaks again.

"Myami told me that dreams are deceptions. They trick us into happiness or fear…and although not all deceptions are bad…" A deep breath. "I just wish to sleep beside you, devoid of dreams …" Her eyes traveled to his back again. "Because nothing has convinced me this isn't one as well…"

She lets herself cry, then. While he's asleep and the room is dark and no one can see her there. It's become an almost nightly ritual. To speak to him in his sleep and let out everything she can't say to him while he's awake. She knows, as long as she doesn't scream or say his name, he'll stay asleep.

"Just…" her voice is calm, even as tears run down her face. "Don't go until you absolutely have to, alright…"

She wipes her face with her sleeve (his sleeve, his shirt) and carefully inches her way back to him. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she buries her face into his back and whispers, ever so softly:

"I love you."

Silence returns to the room as she slips into sleep herself. A smile on her face, her grip loose but comforting.

It is only then that Zeng turns in her arms and holds her close, whispering in the lull of the wind

"I promise."


	21. Skin

Skin

A/N : This was cowritten by my wonderful RP partner, who helped me get through this. He's the same guy I stole Evanader from in the chapter Shiny Happy People. It's another Zeng(Tseng)/Elfé piece. Yay character development and angst

Warnings: There is nakedness, but it's nothing sexual in nature.

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><p>Elfé was sitting on the bed when he came up. She wasn't reading, or drawing. Just sitting, staring at the door, and waiting. The moment he entered the room, she stood up and wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her head into his shoulder.<p>

He stiffened, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft naturally, but now it was muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He would have had to strain to hear her, had she not been practically speaking in his ear. _Sorry? Why was she apologizing? _He began to fear the worst but she kept speaking. "I didn't even think how hard this was for you. I am so selfish."

"What?" He tried to shift to get her to face him but couldn't dislodge her from his shoulder.

She moved again, without warning, and put her hand on his neck. The touch was slight, the brush of a butterfly's wings, but he still tensed immediately. His hand clasped hers and jerked it away before he could stop himself.

"See."

She apparently had proved a point. Zeng was confused. She _knew_ about his triggering spots. She always avoided them, just like he did hers. They'd done enough damage control already.

"No, I don't." They were standing there, him holding her hand at an awkward angle and she still had her head buried in his shoulder. She moved back away from him and he let her hand go. It dropped loosely to her side. She was focused on her feet.

"Elfé?"

Silence. He didn't need words, with her, nor did she with him, but this was one of the rarer times he wanted them. He was patient with her, however, and didn't mind waiting. Minutes passed, her eyes falling closed time and time again, and he didn't hear the breath before she shattered the temporary wall between them.

"Let me see you." This time, although her words were not buried against him, he strained still to hear them. She was a phantom, and her request likewise. It hit him a second later, however, and he frowned, shifting slightly closer, the sound so loud. So loud it hurt.

"What?" His own voice was just as soft, but she heard him with more certainty, and when she looked up at him it was abrupt, a flash of something that might have been anger, but was more probably fear, in her eyes. It said everything, or so Zeng thought. He moved closer, and reached out to touch her face. To his surprise, she didn't withdraw, although her eyes had fallen again.

"Elfé …" Soft, still, but gentle now rather than confused or shocked. He was used to this by now. "You don't need to do this." There was no response, and he pulled her close, slowly allowed his arms to come around her. She stood against him, rigid, her face against his chest. When she shifted, he allowed her to, trusting her, a sigh breathed just barely against her hair. What startled him was the manner of her touch, and how he noticed it. The familiar fabric of his shirt, under the jacket he'd worn his whole life, shifted up against him, freed abruptly from under his belt. As though he'd been shocked, he withdrew a half step – and her eyes caught him instantly. _Don't, _ they said, and it was a warning, a plea. He held still, and after a moment she continued. Rough, worn leather slid up his chest, pressing between them, and he watched with quiet interest as she began, carefully, to unbutton his shirt. Each movement, the gentle but sharp shift of the fabric separating, made him tense minutely more, a rough swallow seeming to send back a complaint. He was not comfortable, not anticipatory. This was not how things happened between them, rare though they were. This was different, far different. By the time she'd finished with his shirt, he was as a wall against her, unyielding. She didn't seem to mind, and brought her hands up to his shoulders, slid them under all three layers – shirt, holster, suit jacket – and brushed them back, catching the fabric behind him to let it come to rest gently behind him. Zeng was still staring at her, and she met his eyes without reluctance.

"I just want to see you." It was meant as a reassurance, but it did nothing to help Zeng feel any more comfortable. He remained unmoved, standing as tall as he would were he under inspection by any of his superiors. This time, a frown ghosted across Elfé 's face, and it was she who crinkled her brow against Zeng's quiet voice.

"I expect you to return the favor." An ultimatum, a bargain, bartering for something which should be so natural between them. She stared at him, and he finished the thought silently. _Inch for inch. It is all I will agree to._ For a long moment, they warred between themselves, until, abruptly, and with a tiny sound of displeasure, she dropped her chin, shook her head, and sighed. Agreed.

Finally, the man's body relaxed, if only a little. His own hands, broad and graceful, came up to her face once more, and tilted her head up gently, until their lips met. It was not a request, but rather a promise. He did not wish anything more of her but that which she asked of him. As always, things happened on her terms. They must, however, occur equally. The response from Elfé was just as subtle, her own muscles relaxing just slightly. The kiss broken, their exchange finalized, they shifted apart once more, and the movements continued.

Like a dance, two warriors working alongside one another as they would fight the same way, they shifted and moved in fluid tandem. Two layers of soft cotton were pulled up Elfé 's lithe body, Zeng's hands rising away from Elfé's own as she worked free first his belt buckle, and then the snap and zip of his slacks. They relaxed as they moved, the actions becoming nothing more than work, each one comfortable with a task to focus on, mindlessly. Both stepped out of their shoes together, shifting their mutual piles of clothes aside with bare feet, near soundless. There was a hesitation, slight and shared, before Zeng stepped up to Elfé , and carefully, reverently, took one hand in his own. She flinched, but he didn't see it, the shadows cast by the single lamp on the bedside table far too harsh. His eyes had closed nearly instantly, and he blinked a soft-lidded gaze at the hand as he brought it to eye level with him. She was shifting now, just slightly, and he hesitated. She had said she wanted to see him, hadn't she? He could look… That moment stretched, however, the light flickering slightly as he traced each line over her torso. It was a beautiful web, a series of decorations which served as the symbols attached to the uniforms of soldiers, but so much more real, so much more intimate. Elfé 's own eyes moved over him in that time, measuring the shape of him, every valley and line, the series of discolorations that signified old scars, all of them so much less than her own, those she had hidden for so long – did he even notice? That there were _so many_ of them… As her free hand rose, almost unconsciously, moved to touch the single still-apparent mark, the place he'd been killed most recently, that hand was caught, quickly but gently. Sharp gaze shot up, captured one which was quiet, still, but impatient.

The first hand was allowed to fall, and both of Zeng's moved to the closer one. Their eyes remained locked together, tension practically audible as Elfé tensed once more. His touch was gentle, however, almost cautious. He held his breath, the fingers of the glove tugged on, the object pulled gently across her hand. She showed no reaction, but when the tainted skin was finally revealed, Zeng could not understand why. The glove dropped nearly soundlessly into his own pile of clothing, and very, very gently, as though she would break were he to move too much, the appendage was turned between his own fingers. Shards of ethereal amethyst, sharp as glass and jagged enough to kill, stuck up from the back of her hand. As his fingers brushed her palm, he practically started, and turned it to stare there instead. Much shorter pieces poked through there, rough as sandpaper, but which looked just as painful.

"I guess…this was counterproductive," Elfé admitted, but Zeng didn't even seem to notice, he was far too enraptured by her hands. She shifted again, even more uncomfortable, and forced herself not to stare at the ground. That was weak, silly. He was just looking at her, after all, and they were going to get married. It was normal for people in their position to see one another naked, to touch each other… A lump formed in her throat, and she choked on swallowing it down, felt it travel down to sit heavily, uncomfortably in her stomach. "I wanted to make you comfortable; you're always so concerned about that with…"

Something was happening. Even before his lips touched her palm, her voice died, their consciousness shifting to balance between them. His head tilted as he shifted her fingers against his cheek, his eyes falling closed, and as close as they were she could feel him trembling, just slightly. Hot tears hit her skin, suddenly, and he moved just barely, just enough to be able to speak against her, his eyes remaining closed.

"Nika…my mother…" his voice was a ghost against her, as the memory was to him, "once told me…that the palms are the most sacred part of the body." They'd _violated_ that, taken everything from her, every inch of her. He'd noticed the scars, exactly how many they were, and said nothing. She was still, was even more, the woman who amazed him every second, every breath she took. They both were, but Elfé had withstood so much, had become something which was not quite monster, no matter how much Zeng struggled to identify with her in that way. "She told me that to kiss another's palm is the most intimate gesture one could perform." Finally, his eyes blinked open, freeing another short wave of tears, though there was fire in the dark of his irises, not sorrow. Not pity. Anger, and protective rage. "Does it hurt?"

She wanted to draw her hand away when he kissed it. Like it was dirty, unclean…infected. Like he could catch all the pain, sorrow, and burden of immortality from simply having contact with the leftover shell that pierced her skin. Never mind that the contact of his lips to her palm sent shivers down her spine.

The words hang silently in the air until she draws herself away. He doesn't want to let her go. Does it hurt? Every waking moment, her eyes say. It hurts so much until it doesn't and that's the worst pain of all. But the words that slide out are a feeble attempt at being strong.

"I don't notice it anymore." She frees herself from his grasp and there's a noise like an exhale. The lamp goes out in the corner of the room and everything is plunged into darkness. He started to move, ready for whatever was coming, but the lights came back on that moment.

Elfé was sitting on the bed again, this time clothed in his shirt and wrapped up as if she were trying to disappear into it. Counterproductive, she'd said. He was beginning to agree, although he wasn't sure what she'd set out to accomplish anyway. He moved to her side and sat down, the creaking of the bed the only noise between them. Somewhere in the house, there was a clock ticking. He hadn't noticed before; she must have brought the object into the house when he wasn't looking.

Words formed and died on his tongue before he finally could say "What…were you trying to accomplish?" He knew he had to take the subject off of her hands. She wasn't ready, that much was clear.

There was a sigh, like a fire going out. The light flickered again as she drew her legs up to her chest and stared across the room. Her eyes painted pictures with the shadows.

"You're uncomfortable with touch." If he hadn't been expecting her to reply, he would have missed it. "I thought I could…" Her voice faded out again and he seemed to have lost her in thought. Her eyes drifted to her hands and anger was written clearly on her face. With sudden certainty, she stood up and placed a firm but definite kiss on his temple. "Goodnight."

"Elfé …" She stopped at the door, her fingers wrapped around the frame. Her knuckles were white. Briefly, he wondered if he'd be fixing that the next morning. Once again, as was so often, he was struck by her size. She was so very small, wasn't she? Even now he remembered the reports, the idea of this larger-than-life enemy. And maybe she was, at points, this grand and powerful being. But right now, she looked so frail and lost, swimming in the shirt that was at least two times her size. She just looked so…human.

And something about that terrified him.

Calling her name may have stalled her, but he could see she still wanted to leave. The frame creaked slightly under her grasp, and she shifted slightly but would not face him. The shirt slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing more scars to his eyes. Wing scars, old wounds, and, although he couldn't tell in the light, what looked like ink. Perhaps she'd tried to hide her deformities under the cover of art. As much as he wanted to ask, he knew he never would.

"Stay."

She shifted again. The hand gripping the doorframe like a lifeline detached itself and hung limply at her side. He could still hear the clock ticking.

This was strange, he noted, more to himself than anything. She was normally the one seeking physical contact, although she'd deny it. He knew by now the need to be close to someone—to feel the heat of their body and hear the drum of their heart—was instinctual. Subconscious. A remnant from her days in a cold lab or from something in her training. He didn't know. They never spoke about it, but it was an unsung agreement. He never told her "no" if she asked for contact. It was always very simple, too, when she asked. A hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on…sometimes (although rarely), someone to snuggle up to. Sometimes she wouldn't ask at all, and he'd suddenly find her curled up in his lap, almost asleep. The closer to unconsciousness she was, the more likely she sought out another.

Dragon might have been her exterior, but he was going to start calling her a cat soon, from the way she bathed herself in sunlight and sought out comfortable lap-space, regardless of what he was doing.

She must not know how to respond, with him asking for her to stay, in a space that they still did not share (although, he mused, the basic law of a relationship labeled the same as theirs said it should be shared). In any normal occasion, they'd start off in separate rooms and if any nightmare accosted her, he'd find her in the morning, curled up at the foot of the bed. Or, if it was really bad, he'd be woken up in the middle of the night by her suddenly wrapping her arms around him before falling back into a fitful slumber.

But now the tables were turned completely. And some part of him wondered if she was going to say no and leave him in this silence that he had created. After too much time, she shifted again and came back to his side. She didn't sit, just stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed and stared off towards the lamp.

He stood up and worked around her, picking up clothing and sorting it, folding this and that. Turned down the covers and closed the door. Opened the window, because he knew the sounds from the outside provided more of a comfort than anything. Menial tasks, to ignore the statue of a woman standing in shadow.

Finally, he returned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. Carefully, he eased the shirt off of her again, and when she flinched he whispered into her hair. "It's alright." He felt like he was soothing a child. He hoped she didn't mind. "It's alright, you're alright…" She relaxed, after a moment, but still didn't look at him.

His eyes traced over the marks on her back, but before he could let himself stare, he moved away to fold the shirt and add it to his stack. For one moment, he thought about giving her back her gloves. _Counterproductive_, she'd said. He left the gloves where they were.

Returning to her, he guided her to the side of the bed that faced the window. Let her lay down and covered her with the blankets. She was shivering, but he doubted it was from cold. He walked around the bed and slipped under the sheets, keeping space between them.

Normally, she'd wait until he'd finished shifting to wrap her arms around his middle and fall asleep. Tonight, she all but ignored him. But he expected it, especially since she was trying to stay as far away from him as she could without falling off the bed.

So he waited, until her breath was all but inaudible (something that had startled him the first night they'd shared a bed like this. He'd shaken her awake in a panic after contemplating CPR. She'd sleepily told him that her heart all but stopped while asleep, and he'd spent the rest of the night counting how long she went between taking breaths). Now, although it was still disconcerting, he knew what he was waiting for. He counted the minutes between her breaths, and when it hit the point he knew was her slumber, he turned and carefully pulled her closer to him. She shifted in his arms, her body trying to get closer to absorb what heat he offered while her mind tried to wake up and remember.

He didn't let her, though, as he kissed the shell of her ear lightly before carefully placing his hands over hers. He hoped the actions seemed unconscious, he was doing his best to pretend to be asleep. Subtle motions, in her dreams, as it should be. For he would want nothing more than for her to be happy, to be comfortable, if only for these moments.

And, softly, he found himself singing, words lost and voice breaking in its softness as he offered her a lullaby.

Counterproductive. Comfort. The way it ought to be.

* * *

><p>AN: For those of you who read my other works, I apologize that I've all but stopped writing them. I hope to update over my breaks from school.


	22. Fetch (A girl and her monster)

**A/N: **Short first person piece I did for a role play application. I find it kind of funny.

While writing this, I was discussing Elfé's "Snow White" tendencies with Nashi. That is, her ability to bond with animals far more readily than humans. Basically the conversation boiled down to this line:

Elfé is better off with Animals than Humans. Why else do you think she gets along with Vincent so well?

* * *

><p>"Fetch." I hold the stick in front of his face to show him the prize.<p>

"Excuse me?" The tone almost sounds offended, and I want to laugh. My face doesn't change.

"Fetch." He sits down stubbornly before me and glares. Behind me, birds take flight from the trees. Even sitting down, he's about as tall as I am. I should be intimidated, but I'm not. "You said you'd play with me." As an added measure, I knock him lightly on the head with the stick. His growl shakes the ground.

"I assumed you meant sparring."

"Well… you're wrong. We're playing fetch." I start tapping the stick on my shoulder, completely aware of the way his yellow eyes are following it.

"Felicia, if you think I'm going to run after that stick, you have another thing coming." I don't even flinch when he uses _that _name.

"I think you're gonna run after it." I feel myself start to smirk. This is a lot like chess. A battle of wills, though, instead of wits. Vincent always beats me at chess.

I'll beat him here, though.

"I will not." He huffs at me. Actually huffs. If he was in his normal form, I know he'd have arm over claw crossed and probably be tapping his foot.

But he's not.

So throwing the stick worked.

"Go get it!" I state, as the stick goes flying into the woods. For a moment, Vincent looks terribly offended…but then his face changes completely as he goes bounding off into the woods after the it.

This whole _shared consciousness_ idea is a little foreign to me. Zira and I didn't have that arrangement. It was either all me or all it.

Galian and Vincent have a system, though. It's admirable, to say the least.

Out of the woods bounds my giant fluffy puppy (I'm sure Galian would love to know that I find the fact that he can crush skulls with his forefingers adorable), a larger stick in his mouth than the one I threw. Typical dog behavior.

"Good boy!" I say, just to spite Vincent more than anything. Galian seems happy, at least, and he stops _just _short of barreling me over to drop the stick at my feet. It's more of a branch now, actually. "Want to go again?"

"No," Vincent states flatly, but Galian barks and butts my head with his hand, so I pick up the branch and lob it back into the woods. And away he goes in a flash of purple and red.

I am in so much trouble but it's worth it.

"Well, look who it is! It's Edmund's girl! Hello there!" Oh I'm sure my face looks great right now. A mix between complete horror and annoyance. I mask it quickly and turn to face what sounds to be a gaggle of housewives on their way back from market.

"Hello."

I think, to them, I'm something of a travesty. As far as they know, I'm thirty-something, single, living with my father, haven't gone to school, and jobless. So, I've never done anything with my life and am doomed to remain that way. I haven't the heart to correct them.

"What are you doing way out here, deary?" One pipes up. I contemplate telling them I'm burying bodies and asking them for good hiding spots but I think it'd break them because they wouldn't realize I was joking.

"Playing fetch with my dog." It's the truth…sorta. The dog they think I'm referring to is Blitz, an old Iciclean husky I stole out of an asshole's backyard a few years back. Poor guy was hungry and scared in the middle of a thunderstorm. He hid under my bed for weeks.

"Aw, how sweet!" A few push forward. "Can we pet the him?"

Shiva's icy tits, they're going to be very surprised by Galian.

I am not good with words. Really. Or excuses. And I'm going to have to use some creativity to explain the barreling mammoth of purple fur that is going to come charging out of the woods carrying a tree.

Maybe they'll just faint…

…And then I'd spend the rest of the day putting Band-Aids on Vincent's ego.

I'm prepared for that.

So I'm still thinking up excuses with Blitz trots out of the woods dragging along a branch about as big as he is. Blitz. Not Galian.

Okay.

I hear the gaggle cooing over how adorable my husky is and I walk up to him. I hold my hand out, palm down, and he drops the stick and lies down immediately. _Look ma!_ His eyes say _I brought you something. _

It's hard not to smile at his face.

I kneel down to pet him, a bit roughly (really, I'm happy to see him even if I don't know how he got here), before heaving him up by his scruff and telling him to play nice with the geese. The moment I let him go he trots proudly over to the ladies and they coo over him. He's really too old to be snappy and if he does snap at anyone I'll kick his ass. And he knows it.

When I turn back around to retrieve the branch, Vincent's leaning against a tree, picking wood out of his teeth. I can tell he's trying his hardest to give me Chaos's death glare, minus the heart-stopping part, but it doesn't really work.

"You're lucky Blitz got out of the yard again and followed you here," he muttered, and I shrugged. Blitz liked to pretend he was still young enough to be my guard dog. It was adorable.

"What, didn't Gally want to play with the geese? I'm sure one of them needed their vocal chords forcibly removed."

"Elfé!" Vincent hates when I joke about his demons. On the plus side, he got the right name.

Instead of replying, I gave a curt whistle and Blitz was back by my side. It's nice not to have to use verbal communication with him. It makes things so much simpler.

We don't talk much, on the way back to Veld's place. Vincent's still angry about the close call, I can tell. I am not really sensitive to the whole vanity thing he has, but it's probably because I find what most people call monsters kind of cute.

By the time we make it home, the sun is setting and Blitz is ready for a nap. I unlock the door for him and Vincent, and get ready to use my usual entrance (my bedroom window) by starting my ascent up the drainpipe.

Vincent pulls me back down and turns me to face him.

"Next time, _I _chose the game."


	23. The Anniversary

**A/ N **In which Elfé and Veld deal with the anniversary in predictable ways.

Third person story for a RP application. Veld's point of view. I don't know if I can capture old men thoughts that well.

* * *

><p>She stands there, her hands out, palms and head up towards the pouring rain. Her eyes are closed, hair plastered to her forehead by the downpour. Lightning flashes across the sky, thunder shakes the ground. And he watches from the porch, wondering if his daughter is going to be electrocuted before his very eyes.<p>

"Felicia, come inside!" He shouts over the cacophony of sound. He doesn't need to, she can hear him. But he shouts anyway. He watches her chest rise in fall, sees her lips move in some unheard prayer. To him, she says nothing.

"Felicia!" Lightning flashes again, and his cry is lost to the crash of thunder.

It's the same every year. Her way of mourning, of trying to cleanse herself of the guilt that will never wash away. Although she denies any control over the weather, it always rains to the point of flooding on this day.

It's not the rain he worries about, though. It's the lightening.

Sometimes he wonders if she's trying to get struck. If she only believes that she can be destroyed by some force of nature, being of the same kind herself.

Or maybe this is her way of forcing the Planet to weep for those she lost fighting for it. _We died for you_. Her lips moved in cadence. He could barely read them, but he knew that's what she was saying, somehow. _They died for you._

Another flash, another roar, and he couldn't let her stay out there anymore.

"Fel… Elfé…" He's whispering because it feels right, because he's beside her and she needs someone. Even if she won't admit it. She gets that from him.

He places his arms around her shoulders. Waits for the retaliation that always comes. Nothing. No jab to the nose, no flipping over her head. She just stands there.

"Elfé, come inside." She opens her eyes and stares at him. He's spent years making eye contact with dead men, but he's never ready when _her_ deadness stares back at him.

"I like it out here." Even now, she still argues. She's soaked to the bone, yet steam has begun to rise from her skin.

"It's raining."

"I like the rain." There are tear tracks on her face, barely visible with the rain coming down in torrents. They're there, though. He knows it.

He wants to say something, anything. It'll be alright. It's not your fault. You can cry on my shoulder. The typical parenthood mantras. But he can't lie to her anymore. She doesn't deserve that.

"I'm not crying, you know." She shifts to wipe her eyes. The moment she says this, the rain starts to lessen. The lightening flashes still, but its fading fast.

They stand together, like every year, and watch the clouds clear. The sun comes out. Everything is right again, meaning nothing is right at all. The wind whistles through the tress _sorry, so sorry. _

Their relationship is tried at times. She may never forgive him. He's too old to remedy anything. They were better off being enemies, but he wants his daughter back. And she won't admit it to him, but she wants him back too.

"I love you," he whispers, tightening his grip on her shoulder. _So much more than you know_.

Somewhere, a bird chirps. The clouds are all gone. Water drips from the trees.

She moves in his arms, a ghost of a little girl hiding in a soldier's clothes. Wraps her arms around his waist and sighs.

"Today," she mutters into his chest, "today…I love you too."


	24. Felicia of the Turks

**_Felicia of the Turks_**

A/N: This was a written to fit into a story Storm was writing. _Prologomenon_, which was going to bridge the gap between the Death of Vincent Valentine to Before Crisis. That is, before Square Enix messed with their own time line and made that really difficult to do.

It still is a really wonderful piece, regardless of the fact that it is unfinished. If you can find it, I suggest you read it.

That being said, this is story is set in my version of Pro'Verse, although the characters are not completely how Storm wrote them. I kind of steal people and make them do things and sometimes their creators like it and sometimes they don't. My Yeni and Storm's Yeni are very close, for example. My Eva and Storm's Eva are two different people. And so on.

That being said, all the Pro' Turks (Eva, Jet, Yeni, Marie, et al) are Storm's. He just let me borrow them. Even if he didn't know it (he does, though).

The reason I wrote this piece is because Storm invited me to write a chapter for Pro' featuring Elfe. He had covered most everyone's pasts and side stories, filled every loop hole, but he never featured a chapter about Veld and his family, so I offered to write it.

This is a very long chapter. It took me about three months to write. It's 25 pages long. I don't mind if you skip it.

But I am very proud of this, and though it is a little sad, you get to see so much of the world, I think.

Special thanks, as always, to Storm. (I'm not giving you Yeni back. I like him too much).

* * *

><p>Veld Dragoon loved his family. The members of the Shinra Electric Power Company Department of Administrative Research were often amazed by this fact. The lengths he went through for them were borderline ridiculous. The man lived at least an hour away from work and still went home a majority of the week (despite how late at night it might be) and <em>still<em> made it to the office in time to _wake them all up_. He'd never missed an anniversary (although one year his dear wife had to settle for an awkward phone call from an almost completely frozen Veld, as he was holed up in a small cave in Icicle with very sketchy PHS reception).

His desk was completely professional, showing no evidence of another life beyond the job, but every Turk knew he kept a picture of his wife and little girl in a locked drawer hidden behind a false panel under his right hand. If one of them caught him in a _very_ good mood, he might even show it to them (not without pride in the accomplishments of said little girl, who was turning out to be very much like him without his knowledge or permission).

And there were nights where, when it was impossible to get home, a Turk or two might hear the hushed voice of their director, singing a lullaby or telling a story to a PHS. No one disputed who was on the other side.

Veld Dragoon was obviously completely devoted to his family, but he was careful to keep his professional life far away from his personal one (in all instances except the few notable exceptions above). Most people outside of the Department of Administrative Research weren't actually aware that he was even married. Some Turks prided this on being one of their best kept secrets. Most others really didn't care.

Regardless of their feelings about Veld or his family, none of the Turks were really prepared for the appearance of one Felicia Dragoon on their floor, heralded in by a concerned phone call, a bucket of water, and a certain unfortunate (but hilarious) misunderstanding.

* * *

><p>It was an almost abnormally slow day on the Turk floor. It was one of those days that, after line up and stretches, everyone was released to their own tasks to basically twiddle their thumbs until the next big <em>something<em> came up.

Jet honestly didn't mind the slow days, they provided a short reprieve from the recklessness of everything else (although his office-mate hated days like these and often vocally reminded him of this fact). He took his time with days like these, planned out how he was going to spend the pseudo "free time" the awkward gap in action provided. Maybe he'd go down to the range and shoot a bit, or go to the gym. Maybe he'd come up with creative ways to get Eva to stop talking. Depended on the day.

Today, well… he had paperwork. It wasn't a lot, and it wasn't hard, but it still needed approval. He sighed and got up from his desk. Without a word, he walked around Eva, who was adding to his collection of pencils stuck in the ceiling, and made his way to Veld's office. He knocked twice on the hardwood door.

"Enter."

Jet opened the door and slipped into the well-furnished office, standing quietly as Veld finished reading through what he guessed was the previous day's mission reports. A frown crossed the elder Turk's face, his eyes rolled at something he read, before a nod was made to the paper, the front page was signed, and with an air of finality, the stack of paper was moved off to the side of a desk. With almost a satisfied sigh, the Director leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together before staring at Jet.

It was then he knew he could speak.

"Sir, I have some files for you to approve before I-" A muffled buzzing cut him off. The look on Veld's face made it clear that he wasn't sure why Jet had stopped talking, for a moment, before he heard the buzzing too (Jet wondered if one too many explosions had made the man partially deaf). Veld pulled out his PHS, which was buzzing frantically, and stared at it with confusion. After a few more seconds of buzzing and obvious mental debate, he held up one finger to Jet and answered.

"Freya? You…never call me at work." Jet felt himself frown at the mention of Veld's wife's name. Unlike the other Turks, Jet actually knew a lot about Veld's family. It had happened accidently, but seemed logical. Veld had needed advice on being an husband, and Jet had found the strangest form of catharsis in helping the other man have something he had lost. The two had shared many conversations about Veld's family. The Director knew that if anything ever happened to him, Jet would step in to make sure Ms. Freya and little Felicia were safe.

Jet was also sure that nothing would happen to the Director to make it so he had to step in.

"What do you mean 'Felicia is missing'?" Veld's voice drug Jet out of his revere and the man frowned despite himself. Should he leave? He hadn't actually been dismissed yet. "No I heard you the first time. Did you look everywhere?" Jet realized that he'd disappeared from Veld's world. Not that he minded. Leaving and coming back later seemed like a good idea.

Veld held up a hand which stopped his retreat. Apparently he'd not vanished as much as he'd liked.

"Did you check under the bed? Not _her _bed, ours. Okay. Tree out back? I don't care that it's raining, she does it anyway…" Veld was pacing, rubbing his hand against his face. "Freya, I don't know. I'm in a different city. What can I do?" Something Freya said stopped Veld in his tracks and he looked at Jet for a moment before shaking his head. Accessing, contemplating. Jet raised one eyebrow. "No. I can't do…okay I'm leaving the office now."

Veld waved for Jet to follow him and trapped the PHS between his shoulder and ear, quickly and methodically packing up a few things he'd need for this sudden jaunt back to Kalm. Items stowed, he pulled the phone from his ear and mouthed "Women!" back at Jet before starting to reassure his wife that _yes_ he was leaving and _yes _he was concerned about the wellbeing of their mischievous five year old, thank you very much.

"Just let me make sure everyone in the office knows what they're supposed to do," Veld was patient almost to the point of patronizing, but Jet couldn't blame him. Worry was written over the man's face, but he was pulling a good aloof act. _Sorry, Chief. You ain't foolin' me_. Jet moved to open the door to aid in Veld's departure, only to have the door burst open on its own, startling both Veld and him.

Jet jumped back as if stung, instantly in a fighter's stance, only to drop his guard when the intrusion shouted

"What. Is. THAT?!" A soaking wet and royally _pissed_ Evander shouted, shoving something forward into the center of the room. That, was, in fact, a child holding an oversized stuffed rabbit and a bucket.

That, actually, was one Felicia Dragoon. Age Five.

"Eva, that's a child. It comes when a man and a woman really love each other. Or are unlucky." Eva had left the door open, so Yeni shared one of his rare moments of wisdom, causing chuckles to ring out over the floor.

(It seems important to note that Yeni knew this happened to be because, earlier that day, while everyone else was doing paperwork or sticking pencils in the ceiling, Yeni was spending his "day off" cleaning guns. It was a normal occurrence for him, but an enjoyable process, one he did not without pleasure, and no one could get the almost content smile that rested on his face.

He hardly nodded when Eva announced he was going out to smoke. Jet had just gotten up to go talk to The Director. Everyone else was minding their own work. Slow day on the floor.

Yeni yawned and stretched. Now was a good time for coffee. He carefully set down his tools and stood up, making his way to the break room. He turned on the coffee pot and leaned against the table, waiting.

The door to the breakroom opened again and Yeni turned to nod in greeting to whichever Turk had been called by the song of the coffee pot, only to be shocked not to see anyone. However, he heard shuffling and looked down.

There was a little girl, bunny rabbit in arm, digging through the cupboard under the sink. After much perusal, she found an old bucket with cleaning supplies. As he watched, she dumped the supplies out onto the floor. The noise seemed to startle her, and she looked at the mess for a moment before stating to herself:

"I'll clean later. This is important!" She moved over to the sink and put the bucket up onto the counter. She had to stand on her tiptoes to do so. Frowning, she looked around and caught sight of Yeni. To his surprise, she came right over to him and pointed at the bucket. "Mister, will you fill that with water for me? Please?"

A few thoughts went through Yeni's head:

1) Is that a girl sized rabbit or a rabbit sized girl?

2) Whose child is this and why is she here?

3) How long have there been cleaning supplies under that sink?

And finally

"Why?" He crossed his arms and stared down at the girl. She stared up at him, obviously impatient. Finally, she sighed, and said quickly:

"Will you hurry please? The man in the stairwell's hair is on fire! I need to put it out!" It took him a moment to connect, but when it hit him the opportunity was too good to miss. _Eva_ was smoking in the stairwell, which meant… Yeni choked down a short laugh, and quickly matched the girl's expression of utmost urgency and care.

"Yes, right away." He quickly walked over to the sink and turned on the coldest water to fill the bucket. In due time, it was full, and he brought it back to her level. "Here…can you carry it?"

The little girl grabbed the bucket, sloshing water onto the floor, and all but dragged it out of the break room. He grabbed the door for her and followed her for a bit, making sure she actually got to the stairs.

"Thank you," she said. He let her go and hurried back to his desk. And waited.

The splashing of water could be heard, followed by a loud "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Less than a minute later, Eva stormed by dragging the little girl, heading straight for Veld's office where…)

"Freya…I found her…and will need to call you back." Veld hung up the phone on a now confused and slightly hysterical woman, and Jet gave him a look of condolence. Someone would be sleeping on the couch in the break room for a long while.

"Boss, can we get rid of _that_?" Eva had obviously missed a memo or two, and Jet sort of wondered how the Director would react to the other's not so veiled threat towards his daughter. He was glaring at the little girl, one finger pointed in an official manner of judgment. Felicia struck her tongue out at him, half hidden behind her rabbit.

"That," Veld stated sternly, "is my _daughter,_ Evander." Eva paled considerably, his finger dropping to his side. He fumbled around for words for a moment and finally settled on something.

"Well…what's she dumpin' water on people's heads for?" He crossed his arms and tried to muster back up the courage he'd had from his rage. Veld crossed his arms as well and turned to his daughter.

"Actually, that's one of many questions I want answered, Felicia." The girl looked around sheepishly, now confronted with two adults with their arms crossed. She looked to Jet, who decided the best idea would be to cross his arms and look at her sternly as well. He assumed that, out of all the people in the room, his face was probably the most frightening.

After more sheepish hesitation, Felicia snapped to attention in such a way that would have impressed anyone who wasn't a Turk. Jet, as a Turk, wondered how aware Veld was of taking his Turk training home with him.

"His head was on fire. I saw smoke. So I put it out." Her tone was firm and direct, as if she were simply doing a mission report. To Eva, she stated. "I saved your life, Mister."

There seemed to be a tick forming in Eva's forehead, but whatever he originally wanted to say thankfully only came out as a very short, very biting, "_Did you now?!_"

"Yeah," the little girl replied simply. Her stance slacked and she hugged her bunny. "You should thank me. You're not very polite."

Jet vaguely wondered if Eva really was about to get into a fight with five year old. Veld seem to think it was about to happen, because he quickly changed the subject.

"Felicia." The girl snapped back to attention (If she was trained or if she was just doing this for show was left unaddressed). "Why are you _here_?" Eva looked affronted that his problem was no longer the focus. Felicia, on the other hand, dropped her stance again and looked at the ground.

"I missed you." The silence that brought was just this side of uncomfortable, and she used the space to take a breath and then keep talking. "You're never home, or when you are I'm _asleep_! And you're always busy. And Momma says not to bother you and I don't wanna but I miss your stories and you _promised_ you'd have more time _soon_ but what is soon and I'm trying to be patient but I don't wanna wait anymore."

"Ifrit's balls…how the hell did she say that in one breath?"

"Watch your language Eva."

The room lapsed into awkward silence again. Felicia fidgeted with her rabbit, Eva glared, and Jet didn't know whether to leave or stay. Veld looked tired.

"We're going home." That was an order, if the Turks in the room knew anything. Felicia looked like she wanted to protest, but instead looked at her feet and nodded sullenly. The Director of Turk's hand fell heavily on her shoulder as he guided her out without another word.

They made it to Yeni's desk before Veld's phone rang. The pair halted and Veld's already annoyed face lapsed into a flash of anger as he looked at the number on his call back screen before answering with a curt "What?" His face only got worse as the person on the phone started talking frantically. He started to answer, looked down at Felicia, and clenched his jaw. "Stay," he said, as if ordering a dog instead of a child, before marching back into his office and slamming the door after kicking Eva and Jet out. They returned to their desk and the room fell into a tense silence.

Yeni looked to the side of his desk, just barely able to see the top of Felicia's head over the top of the piece of furniture. He didn't quite understand why Veld had left the little one out in the hall, but it didn't seem quite fair to him. Smiling, he called out to her, quietly.

"Mani Kropek." No response. "Mani…" He whistled, and the girl looked over at him.

"What's a…" She tried to form the words that Yeni had just spoken. Her mouth couldn't do it.

"Mani kropek." The girl nodded again. "Little rabbit. You." She looked confused, but Yeni moved on to the reason he'd called for her attention anyway. "Lolli, mani kropek?"

She made a noise and shook her head. She didn't know what a lolli was, so she didn't want it. Papa always said not to take things from strangers, anyway (although this man had been nice enough to help her with the man-with-the-flaming hair incident).

"Lolli?" Yeni asked again, holding out a lollipop to the child. Felicia still shook her head, pulling her rabbit in front of her like a shield. Yeni just shrugged and left the sweet on the edge of his desk, closer to her than him. He then went back to work cleaning a particularly stubborn spot on one of his favorite pistols.

"Felicia, Jet! My office." Veld's voice rang out over the uneasy floor, and the owners of the two names hurried forward. Jet got there first, but waited for the little girl to catch up. She looked up at him, nervously, and he tried desperately to look reassuring. He doubted he looked anything more than downright frightening. There was only so much you could do with a face such as his. Curse Eva for burning almost half of it off…

Without a word, Turk and Child entered the office.

(And Yeni noticed as the door shut with a certain finality, that the lolli was, in fact, missing.)

* * *

><p>Veld didn't say anything right away. He just looked between the child and the assassin, assessing.<p>

"Papa…?" Felicia broke the silence, her eyes wide and panicky. "Papa, I'm sorry, I just wanted to…" Veld looked at her and she stopped talking. Instantly. Jet cringed before he could stop himself.

"I have a meeting with the Executive Board in five minutes," Veld began. He was talking directly to Felicia, and although Jet was entirely sure the girl had no idea what he was talking about, she seemed like she was trying damn hard to understand. "So I will not be able to take you home, Felicia. I've called your mother, and she asked that I bring you home at the end of the work day." He paused and Felicia nodded, a bit excitedly. "You will be under Jet's care for the remainder of the day." Her face fell completely from childish delight to pure disappointment and, if Jet wasn't mistaken, fear. He knew, for the first time that day, the girl was starting to realize how much trouble she was in. "Wait in the hall, Felicia."

"But…"Veld folded his hands in front of his face, waiting for her argument. Felicia's words died immediately, and she took a shallow breath before nodding. "Yes sir," she whispered, before going back into the hall.

The moment the door shut, Veld slumped in his chair and covered his face. "This is a mess." He rubbed his eyes and looked back at Jet. "She hid in the trunk of my car. Must have slept there all night. And now you have to play babysitter because something came up and the President is about to shit himself." He stood up and made ready to go to whatever meeting that was going to take his attention for the rest of the day.

"It's fine, Sir." If Veld heard Jet, he didn't react.

"You'll have to keep an eye on her. She's mischievous and downright obnoxious at points. Typical five year old. Curious to a fault. She will ask questions and talk your ear off. Do your best to keep her entertained and do _not_ let her out of your sight. She will get into _everything_ and cause a wreck." He paused and looked right at Jet.

"Can do, sir!"

"Keep her and Evander apart, if possible. And definitely don't let her go near Marie."

"Yes sir."

"And if she bites you, know she's not feral."

"Sir…?" Jet was a bit startled by that last comment. Veld just shook his head, as if to say _I don't want to talk about it._

Veld walked around the desk and put his hand on Jet's shoulder. "I wouldn't ask you to do this, but you're the only one I can trust with her."

"Thank you, sir."

"You'll be compensated accordingly," Veld added, as an afterthought. Jet nodded. On one hand, having the chance to take care of a child, an opportunity he'd never had and probably would never get, was privilege enough. But even then, having an extra privilege earned for later was also a benefit.

Veld sighed again. "Now I know why my old superior constantly told me never to get married or have children."

"With all due respect, sir…" Jet said, despite himself, "I would trade you in a heartbeat." And without another word, he opened the door.

* * *

><p>Jet was confused. Although confused may have not been the correct word for it, it was the best he could do.<p>

Immediately after excusing himself from Veld's office, Jet had taken Felicia back to his shared cubical and tried to get her comfortable with the space.

The first thing she had done, of course, was cry. But only when she was sure Jet wasn't watching. Due to this, she was only able to get out a few very pitiful snuffles before clinging to her rabbit and letting silent tears fall down her face.

After that, he'd tried to find her some paper and coloring supplies. He'd given her printer paper and went on the search for pens, only to be flagged over by Yeni. It was then he learned that Yeni had an interesting amount of art supplies in his bottom drawer, as well as an unusual supply of candy. When questioned, the other man had just mumbled something in Old North and shrugged.

So he'd returned with crayons, glue, construction paper, child scissors, and (although he was assuming he'd regret this later) glitter.

And since then, Felicia Dragoon hadn't said anything. Not one word.

Considering Veld's various warnings, she was supposed to be nothing short of a hell beast. Yet, since the Director's abscond from the floor, the girl had sat with her hands in her lap, held her rabbit, or colored. If it wasn't for the sound of rustling paper or occasional sniffle and sigh, he would have forgotten she was there at all.

At one point, she'd pulled a sucker from nowhere, but upon subtle inspection he realized it had come from the same place as the art supplies she was using. He'd have to ask Yeni about all that some time.

But, besides that…

Jet wondered if she was up to something.

"I don't see why we got saddled with that little monster," Eva stated from somewhere to Jet's left. Jet cringed, because he was purposefully speaking loud enough so everyone—but Felciia especially—could hear.

Felicia muttered something under her breath, but didn't look up.

"What was that, shark bait?" Eva flicked at rubber band at Felicia, hitting her in the back of the head. She clenched her fists, crumpling the paper. "Hey, couldn't hear ya. Speak up, fish paste." Jet cringed, because he realized that Evander was purposefully using fish analogies as a sting to Felicia's Soli heritage. He doubted Felicia was old enough to really understand that though.

She muttered again and Eva started to laugh.

"Dumbass." Jet was about to yell at Eva for swearing in front of a five year old but was cut off by:

"I said, just because no one loves you don't mean you should pick on _me_." Felicia yelled suddenly, tears in her eyes. Eva stifled a laugh.

"What, is the baby gonna cry…Ow!" He was suddenly holding the back of his head, where a small trickle of blood was dripping down his neck. "What the fuck..!"

Jet heard a noise and looked over to see the top of Yeni's head disappearing behind the wall of his cubical, a slingshot in his hand.

"Looks like she's got a guardian," Jet said, smiling and patting Felicia on the head, carefully. She shied away from his touch and went back to her drawing, head down. He looked back to Eva. "I'd watch yourself."

Eva gave the girl a stink eye but went back to work silently.

* * *

><p>"What are you drawing?" Jet asked, after another hour of relative silence. It was making him uneasy. Children—especially young children—were not supposed to be this quiet.<p>

"I'm makin' everyone a picture," Felicia said, showing him the one she was working on. It appeared to be, unmistakably, Yeni, holding what seemed to be a rabbit.

"This is really good, Miss Dragoon," Jet said, legitimately impressed.

"He talks funny," she murmured as she took the picture back.

"Yeni?"

"Yeni…even his name is funny."

"Well, _your_ name is funny to him," Jet pointed out. "He's from the North, they speak differently up there."

"Hmm..." Felicia stated, before moving the picture to the side. She then stared at Jet for a little while. He was happy to note that she didn't seem all that afraid of him anymore, past their initial meeting.

He began to get uncomfortable as time passed, with her eyes staring at him almost unblinkingly.

"What is it, Miss Dragoon?"

"What happened to your face?" Jet stiffened, and next to him, he heard Evander tense up. The floor got awkwardly quite. "Can you not talk about it? Is it a secret?" Felicia continued to question.

"No, it's just…" He didn't want to talk about it. How do you explain a mission that went wrong to a five year old who doesn't even know what an assassin is, let alone what a Turk really does?

Felicia's eyes widened suddenly. Jet felt his guard go up despite himself. Was she going to scream?

"Are you a dragon slayer?!"

"Wha?" Jet looked at her, incredulous.

"Your face! You got that scar fighting a dragon, didn't you?! No wonder you don't tell anyone! That's _dangerous_, Mr. Jet. You coulda been dragon food!" Felicia was bouncing in her seat, and the rabbit in her lap was bouncing with her. "Were you protecting someone? Are you a Knight?!"

Jet couldn't help himself. He looked over and nodded his head back at Eva. Felicia's mouth dropped open.

"_HIM?!_" He shrugged, and then put one finger up on his lips to keep her quiet. She nodded and giggled, before going back to her drawing, scribbling furiously. Jet smiled and went back to work himself. Just as he was getting into the swing of things again, he felt a tug on his jacket. "Can we deliver these?" She gestured to the stack of now completed pictures. He didn't see the new one.

"Sure." He took her hand, and led her around as she pulled out pictures. It seemed that she had done portraits of most of the Turks on the floor, with varying levels of accuracy. Marie's, for example, was startlingly accurate, down to the red eyes and snakes for hair. She was not very happy when she got it. It was put in the trash later, where Yeni pulled it out and labled it "Wrath of Jakh-Ma," which Jet had to explain meant "Spider Woman."

Speaking of Yeni, he was beside himself when he got his picture. He immediately tacked it up next to his computer, in the spot of honor. Only one other picture was there, and that was of Yeni and his mentor, a tall black-haired man with piercing eyes. Jet knew not to ever ask about that man anymore.

They finished their rounds and ended at Jet's desk again. Felicia had a picture for Eva too, complete with razor teeth and flaming hair. He was even breathing fire. Eva was even less enthused than Marie to receive the picture.

* * *

><p>"I need to go for a bit, so Yeni's going to watch you," Jet said. He needed to go down to the clinic to complete some paperwork for them. "I won't be long." Felicia nodded, curled up around her rabbit again. Yeni gave Jet a salute (after all, they were under orders from the Chief), and the taller man walked off.<p>

"When's daddy gonna come back?" Felicia asked, after Jet had walked away. Yeni cocked his head to the side.

"Kresta?" Felicia gave him a confused look. "Papa kropek?" Still confused. "The Director?" She nodded to the last one. He shrugged. She frowned. Silence for a bit, before Yeni spoke again. "Brenvya, you're a child. What do you play?"

"You babbling at me, Yeti?" Eva spat back. It seems he'd been taking a nap, which Yeni had so _rudely_ interrupted with his question. "What's gotten into you today? You normally don't say anything." Instead of replying, Yeni just huffed and turned away, taking Felicia with him by pulling her in the rolling chair she was handily sitting on.

When they made it back to Yeni's desk (which, in all honesty, wasn't that far away), Yeni sat down across from the child and looked at her thoughtfully. Felicia fidgeted under his gaze.

"Do you want to play?" he asked quietly, tilting his head to the side. Felicia copied the motion. "You've been good, so you should play….A game?" She smiled.

"I'm great at Hide 'n Seek." It was Yeni's turn to be confused. "It's where one of us hides and the other counts! And after they are done counting, they go find the hider! Can we play? Can we?!"

"Of course. I'll count, you hide?" Felicia nodded happily and slid off of her chair.

"You have to close your eyes," Felicia advised. So Yeni closed his eyes and began to count.

"Ohna, abah...tbna…" Felicia didn't move, because she didn't know that was counting. Yeni opened one eye. "Aren't you supposed to hide?"

"Ah! Start over! Count to ten! No peeking!" Felicia scolded, before scampering off. Yeni did as he was told, and at "ten (which, in Old North, was "actreb")", he opened his eyes and looked around. Obviously, Felicia was nowhere in sight.

He began to systematically search the floor, slowly combing from one end to the other. And then back…and then a third time…

"Yeni, what the fuck are doing?" Marie, the only (current) female Turk, asked as Yeni walked past her desk for the fourth time in the last fifteen minutes.

"Jak ma, have you seen the kropek?" Yeni, when distressed, was known to speak in an awkward mix of Common and Old North, if he spoke at all. Normally he just made hand gestures and someone like his partner, Ed, had to translate.

But Yeni was never distressed, so both of the aforementioned circumstances were very rare. So Marie was reveling in the fact that her normally stoic and silent statue of a coworker was almost literally sweating bullets from his arsenal.

"Have I seen what?"

"The child!"

"Oh…no, I haven't." She raised one eyebrow in a sadistic manor only she could muster. "Did you lose her?"

Yeni said something under his breath and waved his hands in her direction before hurrying away…

Straight into Jet.

"Oh, Yeni. I was about to come get you and Miss Dragoon…" Yeni _audibly_ gulped. "What's wrong?" Yeni shook his head. "Well something's wrong. You're more pale than normal."

"s'fine…" Yeni muttered, looking frantically around (and in potted plants and under Ed's desk and in the fishbowl).

"Where's Felicia, Yeni?" Jet asked, crossing his arms (and making, what Eva teased him about as being a "Veld Face"). Yeni gestured vaguely. "Yeni."

"She's…"

"WHAT IS THIS MONSTER DOING IN MY DESK?!" Yeni and Jet went _flying_ back to Evander's desk, only to find him staring at Felicia, whom he had held up by the back of her shirt. His bottom file-drawer was open, and a bunny was staring out at all of them with button eyes. Felicia was swinging madly at Eva, but her arms weren't long enough to actually connect with anyone.

"You dumbhead! You gave me away!" Felicia yelled. "You broke the rules!"

"What rules?!" Eva asked, but wasn't answered because a nearly hysterical Yeni stole the child from his hands and was hugging her tightly and talking quickly. All Jet was able to catch was something about being eaten by a spider-woman or being trampled by killer rabbits. He wasn't sure which.

"You…" Yeni finally breathed out, "are no longer allowed to hide."

* * *

><p>When Yeni finally put Felicia back on the floor, and General Flopps was returned to the perch of Jet's desk, the little girl tugged on Jet's sleeve and politely asked to be shown the way to the little girl's room. If he wouldn't mind.<p>

So hand and hand, Jet and Felicia left the floor and it got Turk Silent again.

Evander watched them leave, before turning and looking at the stuffed animal on Jet's desk. Looking around, he noted that absolutely no one was watching. Smiling to himself, a very sadistic, mean, _Eva_ smile, he picked the rabbit up and walked away with it.

* * *

><p>A very panicked, high pitched, ear-splitting wail rang through the air on the Turk Floor. Some of the Turks instinctively hit the ground while others continued on like nothing was happening (someone was having a mental breakdown. On this floor, it was very common).<p>

"General Flopps?!" Felicia wailed, pointing to the spot where the rabbit was no longer. "Where's General Flopps?!" Jet looked between the girl and the empty space.

_The rabbit,_ he thought, looking around. It had just been there.

"Eva, where's the rabbit?"

"How 'm I supposed to know? _You're_ the babysitter."

"It was right…" Jet started, and Eva just shrugged. "Oh never mind." He put Felicia on the chair and asked her to stay put while he walked briskly away, looking for where she might have left the rabbit (even though _he knew_ it was on the desk. He knew it). "Yeni, have you seen Miss Dragoon's rabbit?"

Felicia sat, her fists clenched in her lap. She was struggling not to cry again.

"Not so tough without your toy, are ya?" Eva muttered, just loud enough for Felicia to hear. She said nothing. "You're not foolin' anyone, munchkin. Cut the crap."

"Shut up."

"You mumble, too, you worthless shit."

"I said _shut up_!" Felicia practically jumped at Eva, and the man only _just_ stopped himself from breaking her neck as she tried to claw at him. "If _your_ partner was missing and _you_ didn't know where he was, _you'd_ be worried too! So. Don't. Talk. To. Me! Understand?!"

The last word was so unmistakably Veld that Eva had a half formed _"yes sir_" in his mouth before he could even realize what he was about to say. He swallowed the words instead and shoved Felicia off of him.

"Buzz off," he murmured, straightening his suit. Felicia watched him.

"Where'd you put him." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Eva didn't look back at the girl. "Tell me where you put him!"

"Gods damnit girl, I didn't touch your damn toy! Fuck off!"

"Evander Sinclair, watch your language!" Eva jumped at the voice of Jet and hit his attention stance out of habit. And just stood there as Jet ignored him.

"Miss Dragoon…Felicia…where was the last place you put the General?" Jet asked, his voice far less harsh now that Eva was awkwardly standing in a corner. Felicia pointed to the desk, again.

"He was there, I'm sure of it," she whimpered. "He can't be alone, Mr. Jet. He gets scared."

"I know, Sweety, we'll find him. Don't worry." The endearment slipped out before Jet could filter it, and he didn't apologize. "We'll just comb the floor again and maybe we'll find him." Felicia nodded again and took Jet's hand. Together they started walking and searching.

(Neither of them noticed Eva's phone buzz, to which he looked down at and paled considerably for the second time that day. The phone read _I saw what you did_. It was unsigned.)

"Kropek!" Suddenly, Yeni rounded the corner, muttering angrily in Old North and pointing an accusing finger at a stuffed rabbit hanging limply in his other hand. "You can't _do_ that, Rhenbhan Kropek." Felicia let out a squeak and broke free of Jet's grasp. She tackled Yeni's legs, muttering thanks into the material of his pants. "This one, she's your Nyelia. You have to watch out for her." She looked up at him and Yeni passed back the rabbit to her. "No more running off, Rhenbhan."

Felicia squeezed General Flopps tightly, her face buried in the rabbit's ears.

"Thank you, Mr. Yeni."

Yeni just scratched the back of his head and muttered in such a way that no one was quite sure he said anything at all.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day went mostly without incident. (Although it should be noted that somewhere between Eva getting dinner and returning, the second drawer from the left in his desk somehow got filled with glitter; a fact he would not discover for a couple days as it was a rarely used drawer).<p>

By the time Veld returned to the floor that day, everything had settled down to a certain degree of normalcy. Which was completely abnormal, and Veld had begun to think he'd gotten off at the wrong floor.

"Papa!" An excited giggle greeted him, followed shortly by a tackle to the knees. Well, it was the right floor at least.

He was still supposed to be angry with her. He knew that. But he couldn't be, especially after the day he'd had. She was probably the most welcome thing he could think of seeing at the moment. So he got down on one knee and gave his daughter a proper hug, complete with an extra tight squeeze at the end that always made her laugh.

"Did you have a good day, Feli?" Felicia nodded excitedly, took a breath, and began to give him a very detailed (and highly fantasied) retelling of the adventures of the day, as they walked back toward his office. He wondered how he missed the fact that they had dragon hatchlings and fairy doors on this floor.

At this rate, she'd go one for hours.

He waited until a good stopping point, which seemed to be after the part where Yeni and Jet had to fight a spider monster to keep it from eating Evander and laying babies in his corpse (seriously, he wondered where Felicia's imagination came from).

"Do you want to know what happened next?" Felicia asked, and Veld laughed.

"Of course, after I finish up here, you can tell me all about it." Which meant she was probably going to talk herself to sleep in the car. She did that often. "Okay?" Felicia nodded. "Go gather your things, then."

The sense of finality that always came about this time, the end of a "regular" day, settled over the floor. He could feel the others, almost as if a collective consciousness was shared by everyone. One heart, one mind.

So no one was startled when he finally shouted "L'prettay!" The standard order for _line up_. Silently they all did…with one extra set of feet joining the line up briefly.

Veld began to pace the line, observing his men (and one woman) silently. About half way, however, he heard something trailing along behind him saying "And you look very nice. I like your eyes. You have a good tie. You look very good in your suit…" Stopping, Veld turned and saw Felicia walking up the line after him, dragging General Flopps with her, giving each Turk a compliment in turn.

It took a lot of self-control _not_ to laugh. He saw it in the other's faces.

"Felicia, what are you doing?"

"Telling them they're pretty!" she replied proudly. "Isn't…that what you just said?"

Someone snickered. On any other day, they would have been running laps for breaking line up procedure, but…this was not a normal day. Veld bit his lip and shook his head.

"Alright…finish up."

He continued his walk, and she continued her compliments until he got to the head of the line. When he turned, Felicia had tucked herself next to Jet again, and stuck her hand in his. It was a picture he would never let himself forget, years to come. A line of perfect statues, with the one that should have been the most frightening (if, of course, you found scar tissue frightening at all), holding the hand of a small child.

Veld knew he was giving orders, but he didn't actually comprehend them as he spoke. This was routine by now.

"Does anyone have anything left to say?" he spoke at last. This was normally where complaints were filed or updates were reported. Instead, his daughter raised her hand and said

"I do!" Veld raised an eyebrow and gestured to her, as if to say _the floor is yours_.

So Felicia stepped forward with an awkward military like walk, turned to Jet, and presented a folded piece of paper.

Jet looked down at it and then looked up at Veld, who nodded. He then took the paper and unfolded it. Uncharacteristically, his eyes widened.

"I drew it for you. The time when you slayed the dragon," Felicia said helpfully. Jet just blinked. He didn't know what to say.

"Three cheers for Jet the Dragon Slayer!"

The shout was so sudden, as well as the three cheers that actually followed, that no one was quite sure who originally made the call, just that it felt right at the time and no one got punished for breaking rules. Some say it was Veld himself. Others thought it was maybe Ed, or even Yeni, since no one was used to them yelling.

Jet knew the truth, although he never told anyone. He had been staring in awe and sadness at the drawing made by a child, of the picture of such a trauma made into a fairy tale, that the person didn't think he'd notice decided to shout.

But he knew, because what sort of Turk would he be if he didn't recognize his partner's voice?

* * *

><p>Felicia got home safely, Veld came to work the next day, and the world returned to normal. In fact, quite some time passed before the incident was even spoke of again.<p>

Jet and Yeni were called to Veld's office, and although the two of them could guess why, it didn't lower the level of apprehension. Veld's presence did that to people, it seemed.

"Gentlemen, I believe I owe you a favor for taking care of my daughter some time ago," Veld began, after the door was shut tightly. "Jet, this task was original assigned solely to you, but I was made aware that Yeni assisted you."

Both men nodded.

"I warned you that she was a handful," he stated, a smile hidden behind steepled fingers. Although the other two were at attention, they exchanged a glance, and that smile vanished. "What?"

Another glance, and then a thrown elbow from Yeni, and Jet sighed.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't think you know your daughter very well." Veld actually raised one eyebrow at Jet.

"Mani kropek tnox," Yeni affirmed. Jet was quick to translate, and continue.

"Yeni and discussed this. It seems that, when not around you, Miss Felicia is quite quiet and well-to-do…bit of a temper aside."

"She dumped a bucket of water on Evander's head, and then filled his desk with glitter," Veld reminded the (possibly delirious) other man.

"She doesn't seem to care for him very much, does she?" Jet offered.

"Your point, Jet?" Veld asked, ready to move on. Jet couldn't tell if he was uncomfortable or if this was just boring him.

"She wants your attention, Kresta Kropek." Jet had not expected Yeni to answer for him, but he was kind of glad he did. "Perhaps you should give her some, from time to time."

Jet honestly hated silences like these. He could never classify them as awkward, tension-filled, or deadly. However he'd never forget the nearly incredulous look Veld had on his face for that very pregnant pause.

An incredulous look that was, in fact, bordering on rage.

"Excuse _me_?" Veld asked, his tone sharp. Jet, in his experience, knew this was the time to cover your ass and move on. Yeni had different plans.

"Hearin' bad, Kresta? I said. You. Should. Pay. More. Attention. To. Your. Kid." Yeni crossed his arm, his accent a tad thicker than normal. "Ya want that in High Wutian next?"

"That won't be necessary." Each word was clipped.

"Good, ya got the point?"

"I seem to understand that you need to mind your own _gods damned business_."

It really wasn't often that Veld swore in a "meeting" setting. Jet wondered if he should get a med kit. After all, both men were armed…or in close range of something deadly (Veld was still behind his desk, and they didn't call Yeni _Arsenal_ for nothing).

"Your kid ain't a soldier, Kresta. No little girl should snap to attention at a call like yours did." Despite the increasing tension in the room, Yeni's voice was still quite level, but he was on edge just as much as Veld was. His fingers seemed to be itching for a trigger, of any kind. He chose a bullet made of words, instead of lead. "Perhaps if you actually gave some time to the little one, she wouldn't feel the need to go out of her way to impress ya!"

"And what the fuck would you know about how I am raising my child?!" Veld slammed his hands on his desk, suddenly on his feet. Something fell and broke. Jet didn't look to see what it was. He had already moved, just enough, to be in between the two men.

"Obviously _something_ or you wouldn't be so on edge!" Yeni stated back, his voice raised now. "I'm just telling you not to screw up your little girl because you're a piss-poor father—"

"Oh am I now…!"

"And if you're not going to take the responsibility, it's about time you defer to someone who _will_!" Jet wondered when he had started physically holding Yeni back. He didn't remember moving to do so. A short silence followed, filled only with the ragged breaths from Veld and Yeni and the sound of shifting fabric as Jet looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Like…who?" The two clipped words, still laced with anger, were fired at Yeni like a challenge. Jet felt his jaw go slack, a bit, as he remembered what he'd been originally going to request at a privilege. _Yeni, you son of a bitch, now he'll never say yes._

Yeni was smiling again. You would have though Veld had just told him he was getting an increase in long range weaponry. Without so much as a warning, Jet felt himself pulled back to Yeni's side and found that his right hand was now suspended in the air, held up by Yeni's left.

"Us," the man from the north said, his eyes bright with victory. "Jet an' me. _We'll_ do it."

Jet was smart enough to pull Yeni out of the office and shut the door before the vase flew through the air and smashed against the hardwood.

The two men stood with their back to Veld's office and were facing a large group of fairly confused fellow Turks. Yeni simply straightened his suite and started back to his desk.

"That went well, don't you think?" He asked Jet, before he started whistling.

* * *

><p><em>Sometimes I wonder if that was the strangest request for a privilege Papa Kropek ever got. Dunno, 'cause I never asked what anyone else got. But he did let us do it. Well, of course you know that, don't you, Mani?<em>

_He never was too happy about it, that was for certain. _

_Took a while to get Mama Kropek to get used to us being around, though. Jet convinced her somehow. He's good at that, you know. _

_Plus, it gave ol' Kresta a good kick in the ass. Finally started to get it together, your ol' man. Think he was workin' toward retiring. Turks don't retire, not normally, but I bet they would have let him. They would have had to, ya get my drift?_

_Sometimes, I wonder too, how long we would have been able to keep up that arrangement. I will admit I was surprised…three years passed and I gotto read you bed time stories, watch you climb trees, or take you out for shaved ice. Never liked the stuff, by the way. Seems important to tell you that now._

_Dunno if you ever realized what you did in that time, Mani. Saved Jet, for a while. He lost a little one, lot like you I'd think. Never breathed a breath, but I'd guess his little one woulda been a lot like you. So it was important, what you did. _

_Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if you ever started dating. Poor mate, you know. It's bad enough when you have _one_ dad who can wield a shotgun in an exemplary fashion. You had three (although I would have used my rifle. Less of a mess)._

_The last time we spoke, you called me _Ara Yeni. _I never forgot that. Smart girl, you were. _

_The last time we spoke, if I'd known, I would have told you so much more…_

_Hindsight is a fucking sniper._

_I hope you forgive me, Mani, but there is just one thing I don't understand._

_When we got the call, about that terrible…accident? Incident? Bombs fell on your head, Mani. Are you even aware of that?_

_Papa Kropek was inside your house when it fell down. He's not all together anymore. They made him a new arm. He got it fighting for you._

_Eva carried him out. Thought you should know. Fool's good for something, I guess._

_Jet an' me…we…_

_I thought I told you, Mani Kropek. You're…_

_What I don't understand. I found half that damn town, dead an' alive. I found your dear Mama, Mani. She didn't feel nothin', I promise. Closed her eyes and tucked her in all nice. I found Rhenbhan Kropek. He was face down in the street. _

_I got so good at that game of yours, Felicia Dragoon. I found everyone. Everyone but you._

_You promised me you wouldn't hide anymore. You're just too good at it._

_But…I'll keep counting. So you can find your way back home._

_-Ara Yeni_

(A note, found pinned to the grave of Felicia Dragoon, 4 months after the Kalm Incident.)

* * *

><p>When Felicia died, Yeni put General Flopps on his desk and never talked about her again.<p>

* * *

><p>Yeni died in such a way that Veld couldn't tell you how it happened. If pressed, he would admit that he was too drunk directly afterwards to have correct memory of the event. The rest of the Turks were that way as well. No one was sure how Yeni died. Just that he did, and that it hurt so bad the only way to grieve was to get as drunk as possible and sing at the top of their lungs on the streets and then go to work the next day so hung over that any noise made them cringe but they didn't because every noise sounded like a whistle. And Yeni always whistled when he was happy.<p>

The day Yeni died, well before the mission he died on, he removed General Flopps from his desk and locked him away inside a drawer. His whole desk, in fact, was locked.

Yeni was the only Turk on the floor who never locked his desk.

When everyone had recovered enough to remember someone needed to clean out Yeni's desk, the Turk in charge of the task was perturbed to learn that it was, in fact, locked, and, in fact, no one else had a key.

So Yeni's desk stayed exactly as he had left it.

So no one was quite sure how General Flopps got back onto his desk. Or where the sign came from.

But, after General Flopps appeared, holding a sign that said _"Always look on the bright side of life,"_ Veld avoided that part of the office and no one got near Yeni's desk.

* * *

><p>The Turk floor changed over the years, much like everything changes eventually if you don't watch it too closely. Younger members showed up, which Eva continually harassed Veld about, when they were in better spirits. Eva wasn't the only bright red head on the floor anymore.<p>

Just for good measure, Eva dumped a bucket of cold water on Reno when he was smoking in the stairwell. When Reno tried to raise a complaint to Veld about it, he was thrown out of the office. So he confronted Eva about it, and the elder red-head just said

"The rabbit made me do it."

Reno chalked it up to his superiors being insane. Which was normal.

Some of the younger Turks asked questions about the dust covered desk with the rabbit stuffed animal on it. Or the crayon drawings that sometimes turned up when previous desks were cleaned out or moved. No one ever talked about it, but, as the years went by, there were less and less people who knew anything about them anyway.

People died, which happens.

Jet died, which shouldn't have happened. And most things Eva thought were normal became very abnormal, because when he looked around the floor, he suddenly was one of the oldest and that was just something he wasn't ready for.

For his next privilege, he asked for a trunk.

The request got him some strange looks from most. Tseng, the bane of Eva's existence, went so far as to ask why Evander wanted such an item, as he didn't physically own anything else but a gun and a pair of blast goggles.

Eva politely told Tseng to mind his own gods damned business.

* * *

><p>Eva died.<p>

Most people thought he did, rather.

Veld confirmed he was dead, at least, after hearing Reno's report. The kid had to give it to him from Medical, since he'd been way too close when the explosion had gone off.

The mission had gone fine. That much Veld knew. That much _everyone_ knew. It had been when it was over, when Reno and Eva had been walking back, last in line, since no one wanted to walk after the explosive technicians.

Eva had stopped. Reno tried to get him to get walking again. Joked around. The typical.

Eva wouldn't leave. He'd just smiled at Reno and turned away. Lit a cigarette even though there was a strict _no-smoking-on-the-job_ policy. Set something on the ground in front of him.

That something was a primed grenade.

Reno was in Medical, but alive, because Reno's partner had pulled him behind a ruined wall just in time. Evander was not alive because he'd purposely blown himself up.

Reno had asked to keep the blast goggles. Veld's answer to that was obvious because they seemed to be glued to his forehead afterwards.

* * *

><p>"I get Eva's desk?" Reno asked, standing awkwardly in the middle of the Turk Floor, holding a small pile of belongings. Desk moving days were always strange days.<p>

Veld ignored him as he helped Rude carry the last bit of his office supplies to Jet's old desk. Reno had considerably less, so he could carry it himself (it seems important to note that Reno had considerably less because he found it easy to steal needed items from other people in the office and therefore never requested much of anything. Mostly, however, he just stole from Rude. That being said, whenever Rude put in a request for office supplies or the like, Veld always ordered him just a bit extra to compensate).

Veld put a copy of the key for the drawers on the top of each desk. "Don't lose that," he advised. "And if there is anything in the desk, collect it in a box and bring it to my office." He gave Rude a nod and walked off.

"Rude, why do I have Eva's desk?" Reno asked, dropping his things onto the rolling chair and picking up the key gingerly.

"It's just a desk." Rude unlocked the drawers to his desk and began putting things away. Jet's belongings had all been removed by Eva years ago.

"I don't want Eva's desk." Rude started to say something but Reno kept talking. "It's not _just_ a desk. It's Eva's desk. And all the stuff in it is Eva's. And going through Eva's stuff is just _not_ okay."

"You're wearing his goggles." Reno reached up to feel the goggles resting on his forehead, as if he had forgotten they were there. He was silent for a time.

"Why do you think he did it?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Did what?" Rude asked, arranging some pens on his desk.

"Blew himself up." Rude stopped working and looked at the red-head lounging on the desk next to him.

"He was tired."

"Oh."

Silence again, and Reno spun the key between his fingers. After some time, he slipped off the desk and began unlocking drawers. "I wonder what he kept in here…"

"Could be anything," Rude replied, more for the formality of it. He wasn't actually interested.

"Nothing." Reno answered, ignoring Rude completely. He was staring at an empty drawer. He opened another drawer, also empty. All of them were that way, save the small amount of glitter in the second drawer on the left. "Rude, did you already clean this out for me?" Rude gave him _a look_, so he stood up and walked around, asking various Turks if they had cleaned out Eva's desk. None of them had.

Reno came back and awkwardly started putting things in the desk. Veld walked by.

"Director, did you clean out Eva's desk?"

"That was your responsibility, Reno," Veld replied, before continuing on. Reno frowned and closed the drawers.

"I need coffee," he announced to Rude, before taking off towards the break room. He didn't make it past Yeni's desk (although, to be fair, he only knew it as the desk no one messed with, since Yeni was before his time). The desk was completely cleaned off.

"Uh…Guys? Didn't there used to be a rabbit here?"

* * *

><p>"Will this be all your luggage, Sir?" the dockworker asked with forced politeness. He was pointing to an old looking trunk, sitting on the dock waiting to be loaded into the ship. The man in question wasn't paying any attention to the dockworker at all. He was looking out at the sea and smoking. "Sir?"<p>

"That's all," the man replied, still not looking at him.

The dockworker shrugged and made to grab the trunk.

"Wait." The man halted him and got down on one knee in front of the trunk. Opening it quickly, he searched for a while and pulled out an old, almost raggedy, floppy-eared stuffed rabbit. Tucking it under his arm, he stood up again. Locking the trunk firmly, he stated, "All yours. Be careful, that holds a lot of souls." The dockworker raised one eyebrow but shook his head as he grabbed the trunk.

After the dockworker left, Evander Sinclair reached up to adjust blast goggles that weren't there anymore, and sighed. Dropping the stub of his cigarette onto the dock, he snuffed it out with his toe. He looked down at the rabbit in his arm.

"Dunno why I got saddled with the little monster," he said to no one in particular.

* * *

><p>A lot of people died and stayed that way, but Felicia Dragoon was not one of those people. It would be easy enough to say that she never even died at all, but where was the fun in that?<p>

Of course, when Evander met her again, she wasn't exactly Felicia Dragoon, the little hell brat he knew her to be. Instead she was a great terrorist leader on her death bed (again), lying in the hospital next to his old director.

Dragoon father and daughter back together again.

Evander only wished Jet and Yeni could have been there to see it.

* * *

><p>The friendship between Evander Sinclair and Elfé -formerly-Felicia Dragoon was a strange one. Not that Eva thought anything in his life was all that normal.<p>

Once a month they went fishing. It was easy to do that in Costa de Sol. Although Elfé always wanted to go to some lake in the middle of bum fucking knows where.

Eva didn't complain. He liked the quiet. It was a new thing I he'd gained in his old age.

Only today it was raining. The type of rain that soaked you to your bones after a minute of being in it. Elfé'd want to go fishing in it. That girl didn't seem to notice the weather much.

Three knocks on the window meant he had about a minute to get to the door before she started to pick the lock.

"Girlfriend here?" Legend called from the living room as Eva scampered past. He didn't grace the other man with a response, too focused on beating Elfé to the door. It was a game. Yeni was keeping score somewhere.

He won this time. But, he realized, it was 'cause of the weather, if the half-covered in mud, soaking wet Dragoon on his doorstep was anything to go off of. And, Ifrit bless her, she still had her fishing pole.

"Took you long enough," she said. She always said that, regardless of who actually got to the door first. She was dripping mud and water on the deck. "It's raining."

"No shit?" Eva scratched his head. "Girl you're gonna track mud everywhere." Elfé looked down. She stepped back a bit and shook like a dog. "Hey!" She stopped and shrugged. "Look, step into the hall. I'm gonna get you a robe or somethin'. You can take a shower."

Elfé took off her shoes and set them by the door. She followed behind Eva as he led the way to his bathroom.

"Hey, girl, when you gonna tell Reeve to get me off of house arrest?" Legend yelled as they passed by. He was sprawled on the couch, watching television and smoking a cigar. She stopped and Eva kept walking.

"When you stop being a lazy fuck," Elfé replied.

"Hey! You owe me! You're the reason I'm even _under_ house arrest!" Legend said, flicking some ashes at her in annoyance.

"That's what you get for betraying your company and pissing off the people you were supplying."

"So much for loyalty."

"My loyalty only goes as far as the other person earns. I am not loyal to assholes," Elfé muttered as Eva came back and handed her a towel. She started to dry her hair.

"You got pretty far with Rufus."

Eva wisely grabbed Elfé's arm and drug her out of the room after that. "Shower's this way, Dragonfly." He practically shoved her in the bathroom just put a few walls and a door between her and Legend.

"Why do you live with that idiot?" she yelled through the door.

"'Cause." She passed out her soaked and muddy clothes. He passed in a robe and fresh towel. "You might want to stay in my room till your clothes are dry." He left her to do her thing.

Elfé's showers were efficient if anything. She was still getting used to the whole indoor running water idea.

So she had time to kill, and Eva's room was far too minimalistic to be interesting. Were all Turks that way?

She sat down on the trunk at the foot of his bed. And then realized how out of place the bit of furniture she was sitting on was.

The lock was easy enough to pick. The latch opened with oiled ease. The first thing that greeted her was the button eyes of an old rabbit.

"You're so cute," she whispered, automatically. Gingerly, she reached in and pulled out the rabbit and held it closed with a practiced, instinctive motion. She wasn't even aware, fully, that she had done this. She began rifling through the contents of the trunk, rabbit tucked in one arm.

When Eva came back, she had the pictures spread out around her in a semi-circle, a small pistol set off to one side, a pair of black, fingerless fighting gloves to the other, and the rabbit in front of her. There was more in the trunk. She was looking in it when he walked in.

He didn't say anything.

"Is this you?" she asked, pointing at a picture of a red haired person breathing fire. She didn't appear startled but he knew her well enough to know she was ashamed at getting caught. _Don't let her out of your sight…she's curious to a fault._ "I didn't know you had a daughter."

"I don't." She frowned. "I don't have any kids." She looked down at her hands.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Your clothes are done."

Elfé got up and hid in the bathroom to change. Eva put the pictures, gloves, and gun back into the trunk. He heard the bathroom door open and she was standing there, scratching the back of her head.

"I'm sorry."

"You've always been the type to get into others' stuff," he replied, staring at the rabbit and not her.

"Eva…?" There was hesitation there.

"Yeah, Dragoon?"

"Who's…rabbit is that?" He looked at her, then back at the rabbit. He then walked over to her and held it out, awkwardly. Elfé looked down, her face crinkled in concentration. Some things never changed. Eva shoved the rabbit into her hands. "I don't…"

"You should go home." Eva turned away and walked towards the front hall. Elfé followed, staring at the rabbit. He fetched an umbrella and her shoes.

"Same time next week?" she asked, as he handed her the umbrella. He just swallowed hard.

Standing on the front porch, Elfé tried to give him back the rabbit.

"Take him home," Eva ordered, and then shut the door. He leaned his head against the wood and let out a forced breath. "He's been waiting long enough."

* * *

><p>A week later they went fishing. As normal.<p>

Elfé brought back the umbrella when she came to pick him up. With her she carried a rucksack, old and faded. In it, General Flopps bounced in time to her steps.

They didn't talk. He carried the fishing poles, she the cooler. She found the boat, hidden in a different spot each time and pushed them out into the lake. He rowed the first half. She the second.

The sun rose. Elfé began to burn a bit, he could tell because she gained a ton of freckles instead of turning red.

Eva had a few beers in the time it took Elfé to drink one. That was normal enough. He wanted to smoke but knew it'd cause the girl to go into a coughing fit, so he chewed on a toothpick.

"The one from the north…he was Yeni," Elfé said suddenly. Eva straightened up and turned back, looking at her oddly. "Right?" She wasn't fishing. Instead, she had her sketchbook open. There was a picture of Yeni holding a rabbit staring up at him.

Almost 30 years later, Elfé had redrawn Felicia's picture…from memory.

Eva propped his pole on the side of the boat and reached for the sketchbook. He hesitated just before taking it, though, and Elfé passed it to him the rest of the way.

He flipped through, looking at all of the remakes of the old pictures. Maybe tears stung his eyes. He couldn't tell, but his vision did go blurry for a while.

"How'd he get his scar?" Eva looked up, at Elfé, who was peering at him with the same damn face Felicia had once upon a time. It was just older, more battle worn. Covered in freckles from the sun.

"Who…?" he asked, knowing very well who she was talking about. He passed her back the book, and she flipped to a picture.

Jet stared back at him, a bit of a smirk on his face. His Turk suit was replaced with dragon scale armour, and he was resting against a longsword, his stance relaxed. In this picture, in the mind of a child and that fantasy world, he was no assassin, but a knight.

"Him…Jet, wasn't it?" Elfé stated as she placed the book back in his hands. Eva held it as if it were holy, but he was looking at her, his mouth twisted into a smile even though his eyes were so very sad.

"Don't you know, Kropek?" he said, laughing. "He was slayin' dragons."

* * *

><p>Excerpt from "Yeni's Dictionary of Made Up Words", recorded by Felicia Dragoon:<p>

mani kropek- little rabbit, nickname for Felicia

papa kropek – father rabbit, a very fond nickname for Veld, used only after meeting Felicia

Rhenbhan Kropek—general rabbit, name for General Flopps, Felicia's toy

jakh-ma –spider woman

Kresta – director, his nickname for Veld

Lipchishna – little one, a pet name for children or beloved young women/girlfriends

Opreyak – one's job, responsibility, the part they play

Brevnya – a word of disdain, used a lot toward Eva these days, although it's one of the words he tends to slip in when he's complaining about his coworkers

Nyelai – partner

Lolli – sucker/ lollipop

Bneta ba – Goodbye/ see you later

Tnox – quiet/is quiet

Ara- Uncle


End file.
